Eight Days
by Bubble Wrapped Kitty
Summary: Arthur and Ariadne are trapped on the first level of Fischer's Dreamscape until the clock runs out and they can wake up. It should be simple enough, hiding out for a few days and keeping a low profile, but as the Point Man and Architect grow closer things become - well, complicated to say the least.
1. Day One

Disclaimer: Inception and any of its recognisable components belong to a bunch of people who aren't me. If I owned it, I'd be a very proud person. Right now I'm just a jealous someone very in awe of the exceptional writing and cinematography.

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><p><strong>Title<strong>: Eight Days

**Author**: BubbleWrappedKitty (Annie Neilsen)

**Summary**: The only ways to wake up from a shared dream are to die or to wait for the timer to run out. Unfortunately in their case, dying is no longer an option. Trapped in the first level of Robert Fischer's Dreamscape, Arthur and Ariadne have to find a way to get through the remaining days before the timer will wake them up. It seems like a simple enough thing to do, hiding out and keeping a low profile, but as the straightforward Point Man and curious Architect spend more time together, and consequently learn more about each other, things inevitably become - well, _complicated,_to say the least.

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><p><strong>Day 1<strong>

The moment the freezing water swept in and around her, Ariadne clamped her eyes shut and forced herself to not gasp at the frigid temperature. She held her breath and tried to let her body simply bob in the flow of water, the seatbelt that cut across her chest the only thing stopping her from floating up and out of the van's gaping windowpanes. There was no discernible noise over the sound of the water rushing in whorls around her ears, nothing to tell her when it was safe to move. So she waited, the ache in her chest growing progressively worse as her lungs longed to bring in new air.

A hand clamped around her elbow and shook her. Ariadne pried her eyes open – not too far just in case it was Fischer – and could make out Arthur's face floating inches from hers. He held up the black mouthpiece and gave her a pointed look. Grateful, she grabbed it and shoved it into her mouth. When she depressed the button on the side a rush of air swept and she sucked it all in greedily. Arthur flashed a questioning OK sign with his hand and she responded, letting him know she'd be fine. He jerked his head just slightly, gesturing for her to head out, and he took another deep breath from the oxygen tank concealed beneath the row of seats.

As she kicked off she saw Arthur move up to the next seat, where Cobb was bobbing against the seat restraint. She wanted to explain to him, tell Arthur to leave him behind, but the most she could manage in their situation was to pat his back as she swam passed him. Through the whirl of bubbles she could see Yusuf kicking a few metres to the side, and when she glanced back over her shoulder she could make out Arthur swimming up through the wake left behind by her feet.

She broke the surface with a gasp, drawing in an overcompensating breath as she trod water for a moment to get her bearings. Yusuf was off to her right, already striking out for the rocky ledge that supported the bridge. Just as she started after him she heard the loud inhale that signalled Arthur had surfaced. Her muscles were aching at the cold, but she managed to get herself up onto the steep gravel hill that led up to the rocks.

Turning around, she dropped down onto a level rock and struggled to catch her breath. Spluttering slightly, Arthur dragged himself up onto a flat rim of rock beside her and sat down. "What happened?" he asked breathlessly.

"Cobb stayed," she answered, mind still a bit disoriented from riding the kicks up through the levels. It had been a hurricane of places and sensations, being jolted from one body and world into the next in split-second gaps. Unconsciously, her hand touched her pocket, where she could feel the familiar shape of the golden bishop, but her wet jeans were too tight to get her hand in to it just yet.

She could almost feel the frustration and disappointment rolling off Arthur's usually stoic figure, revealing that he was more concerned about his partner than he generally let people believe. "With Mal?"

"No," she countered. "To find Saito." Metres away bubbles were disrupting the centre of the water ripples, signalling the place where the trashed van was dragging the bodies of Cobb and Saito toward the bottom of the river.

Arthur let out a heavy breath and his shoulders slumped slightly. "He'll be lost."

Ariadne didn't take her gaze off the water. "No, he'll be alright." She couldn't explain how she knew it, but she did. Cobb had confronted Mal, had finally faced up to what he'd been running from for years, and she knew that he had meant it. Somehow, someway, he would find his way back to them.

Behind them Yusuf let out a loud sigh and slumped back onto the rocks, stretching out wearily. "This is why I don't go into the field," he grumbled.

"So, what now?" Ariadne asked, looking between the two more experienced Dreamers.

Arthur grimaced tightly. "Now we wait."

"Wait?" she asked in confusion.

"Until the timer runs out," Yusuf chimed in, propping himself up on his elbows so he could meet her gaze. "We won't wake up until the machine stops."

"But that's a whole week down here," Ariadne said in horror. "What are we supposed to do?"

"Lay low," Arthur said. He stood up and looked around them, his eyes focused and calculating. He was back in Point Man mode. "Find a safe place to hide out until we can get out of here."

"What about the Projections? And Fischer's security?" Ariadne asked, scrambling up to her feet and wrapping her arms around herself tightly in a vain attempt to retain what little body heat she had left. "They'll kill us and we'll wind up back down there with Cobb."

Arthur shook his head, still observing their surroundings methodically. "They're just out to protect Fischer. So long as we leave him alone and don't tamper with the Dream, they won't have much reason to bother us."

"Maybe you," Yusuf said and peeled off his jacket, wringing water from the thick fabric. "I'm the Dreamer."

"All the more reason to find a safe place to hide," Arthur pointed out, his lips twisting smugly as he arched an eyebrow. "We should start moving. Fischer's security is going to come down looking for him and we probably shouldn't be here when they do." He offered a hand down to Ariadne and she hesitated for a second, taking in his almost mischievous grin, before letting him pull her to her feet.

"Where do we go?" Yusuf asked, awkwardly pulling his rumpled jacket back on.

"You two know the city," Arthur said. "We need a place away from where Fischer will likely be. Somewhere unobtrusive where we can hide out a couple days without drawing too much attention."

"There are more warehouses on the other edge of the city," Ariadne said.

"They can't be near where we were," Arthur said, shaking his head. "Security might still be watching that place just in case we come back."

Ariadne snorted. "This city is a circle; everything is near everything." He gave her a curious look and she elaborated, "It's built like the stairs you showed me. If you just keep following this bridge road long enough, you'll wind up right back here. The river basically does the same thing."

Arthur narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and nodded. "Did you add anything secret to the design?" he asked. "Hidden rooms or tunnels we can use to travel through the city without being seen?"

Yusuf cast a short glance at Ariadne before answering. "The metro system," he said. "We knew Fischer would never go onto a train, so the tunnel system runs under the city but has no real trains in it."

"That'll work," Arthur agreed. "It'll get us across town before Fischer's security has too much time to set up a perimeter to catch us. Let's go."

It was rough going, getting across the shallow boulders that littered the riverbank, but that was nothing compared to the trial they met when they got out from beneath the bridge's shelter. It was still pouring rain and the heavy droplets got in Ariadne's eyes as they scaled the slope back up to the roadway. Arthur had to help pull her up over the low wall onto the street, and Yusuf dragged himself up behind her, panting and muttering mutinously.

"Which way?" Arthur asked and Yusuf squinted around thoughtfully for a second before pointing. "Alright, we should split up now," he said. "Together we're going to attract more attention. Go on ahead, get yourself somewhere safe, and stay low. And whatever you do, don't change anything or the Projections will be all over you."

"Got it. Take care of yourselves," Yusuf said and he inclined his head to them both before turning and jogging up the road, his arm over his head to shield his eyes.

"You're with me," Arthur said to Ariadne. "I need someone who knows how to get around this place." Ariadne opened her mouth to argue, because she had a feeling it was so much more than just a need for directions, and he smiled, seeming to catch her questioning look. "And you're good at getting into trouble. I want to keep an eye on you so you don't get yourself killed."

Arthur shrugged his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders before she could object, and then started walking the same direction Yusuf had gone. Ariadne jogged to catch up with his long-legged strides. "What about Eames? Will he still be in danger? He's with Fischer right now."

"Fischer sees him as Browning for now," Arthur replied, half-shouting over the rain pounding on the pavement. "He won't be seen as a threat to Fischer; he'll be fine." He smirked and added, "Besides, he's a big boy. He can take care of himself."

Ariadne rolled her eyes at the constant rivalry between the Point Man and the Forger, but she saved her questions for later. Right now she was having a hard enough time keeping up with the much taller man. Her curiosity would have to wait until they were settled somewhere safer. She pulled his jacket on properly, despite the fact that the sleeves fell down well over her hands, and hurried to fall into step with him.

They had been moving for what felt like a half hour – although she couldn't be sure because her sense of time was so skewed in the Dreamscape – when they finally reached the subway entrance. Everyone else seemed to walking passed it, but Arthur walked purposefully down the stairs with Ariadne a half-step behind him. Once they hit the bottom of the stairs Arthur swiped a hand over his hair, flicking the water from his hand to the floor. "At least we're out of the rain for a bit," he commented, looking around. There were a couple people milling around the station, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to the empty tunnel. Yusuf was nowhere to be seen.

"Where do these tunnels go?" Arthur asked under his breath, taking a step closer to her. Ariadne shivered slightly at the intimacy as he hovered against her side, his chest touching her shoulder, and he lifted a hand and set it on her upper arm in a gentle touch. To anyone looking, they would appear to be a young couple stealing a brief second of closeness - nothing worth any attention.

"Almost everywhere," Ariadne answered, embarrassed to hear her voice quiver slightly. She blamed the cold. "They run in a grid under the main part of the city, with stations every couple blocks." Arthur nodded and his breath ghosted across her forehead as his eyes peering over the top of her head to check the area around the tunnel, and then he took a step back from her. Before she could catch her breath, he held out a hand toward her, grinning. This time she accepted it without hesitation, threading her fingers through his and letting him lead her across the station.

They hovered near the wall at the edge of the tunnel, standing close together and acting casual, until Arthur was sure that no one was watching them. He hopped down onto the rails and then immediately turned and helped her down after him. Taking her hand once again, he pulled her into the safety of the tunnel and out of sight from any curious Projections on the platform.

"Lead the way," he said, gesturing down the tunnel ahead of them. "You're the Mistress of the Labyrinth, after all."

Ariadne smiled at the teasing. "You know the myths then?" she asked interestedly. "About Ariadne and the Labyrinth?"

"You mean about the daughter of Minos of Crete, who helped Theseus find his way through the Labyrinth and defeat the Minotaur?" Arthur chuckled at her surprised look. "I'm the Point Man," he reminded her. "It's my job to know everything."

Ariadne led him through the tunnels, trying to keep track of where in the city they were as they walked. She steered them further into the city, as far away from Fischer's office building as she could manage, just in case, and then right before the next station they reached she stopped. "We're not going to get any further from Fischer without going back to the warehouse district."

"Right, we go up to the street from here," Arthur said, staying close to the wall so the Projections wouldn't see them before they climbed up. "We'll head into the first place we can find where we won't attract attention. A bar or a hotel. Got it?" When Ariadne nodded he crept over to the station platform and then threaded his fingers together, signalling that he was going to lift her up. She wedged her foot into his grip and he shoved, pushing her up so she could crawl onto the platform.

By the time she'd straightened up and turned around, he had jumped and was hauling himself after her. He stood up and dusted off his pants before looking around. Two of the Projections on the platform were watching them apprehensively, one of them staring over the top of his newspaper with narrowed eyes. Ariadne instinctively stepped closer to him, wrapping her hand around his upper arm securely. If they were going to have to make a run for it, she didn't want to get separated.

Arthur forced on a jovial smirk and started walking, tugging her along with him, and he strode resolutely across the platform to the stairs. Ariadne groaned as the rain hit them, chilling her already frozen body before they'd even gotten to the top of the steps. They paused on the sidewalk while Arthur hastily took in the buildings on their street, and then he pulled her along with him as he jogged into a large boutique.

"Thought we could use a change of clothes," he whispered at her inquiring look as they slipped inside the warm building. "I don't know about you but I'm not keen on freezing."

Ariadne snorted. "Not after the avalanche down in the third level," she chimed in and was rewarded with a small smirk.

"Go get yourself something dry and meet me over there by the registers," he directed and then walked off to the men's department. Ariadne span around until she found the women's clothes and headed immediately for it. It wasn't difficult to find something; she had a fairly distinctive style that she enjoyed. She carted the new pair of jeans and blouse to where Arthur was already waiting by the cashier.

"Damn airline lost all our luggage," he was saying to the cashier as she walked up. "And then we get here and it's pouring rain. Told her we should've gone to Cancun instead."

"And if we'd gone to Mexico you'd have just complained about getting sand in your shoes," Ariadne chipped in as she set the clothes on the counter, instantly picking up on the character he was playing. She didn't miss the small smile that flashed over his face at her comment.

He pulled a credit card from his wallet and paid for their clothes, and then looked up at the cashier as he bagged up their clothes. "Where's the nearest hotel?" he asked. "I want out of this rain."

"There's a Marriott just across the street, about two buildings north," the cashier answered as he handed the sack of clothes across the counter to Ariadne. Arthur thanked him and then let Ariadne take his arm as they headed for the door. He paused beneath the awning in front of the building and then pulled his jacket off of her, holding it over their heads for protection.

"Ready to make a run for it?" he asked, gesturing at the Marriott hotel catty-corner from where they stood. Ariadne held the shopping bag close to her chest, stepped closer to him beneath the shelter of his jacket, and then nodded. Arthur took off running, weaving through the cars on the road, and Ariadne clung to his side to keep up with him until they finally reached the hotel.

She hovered anxiously in the background, watching the Projections in the lobby suspiciously in case any of them started to take particular notice of them. Although none of them seemed to paying any special notice of them beyond what would traditionally be granted to a pair of dripping wet people in the lobby of a nice hotel, she couldn't bring herself to relax until Arthur was shutting them inside of a posh but compact seventh-floor suite.

"We'll be all right here, for a couple days at least," Arthur said as he surveyed the room mechanically, his dark eyes narrowed to pick up on any hidden detail or nuance that might betray trouble. "You should get changed before you get sick," he added when his eyes landed on her shivering figure.

"Can you even get sick in a dream?" Ariadne asked, her head cocking to the side questioningly.

Arthur's lips quirked as he took the bag from her hand and withdrew the clothes he'd bought for himself. "Do you really want to find out?" he asked in return, one eyebrow curving upwards challengingly.

For a minute Ariadne thought about pursuing that line of thought, just to rise to the challenge he was obviously implying, but then she thought better of it. Competitive side or not, she wasn't looking forward to spending a week in this place, bedridden with pneumonia. So she took the bag and slipped into the adjoining bathroom – which was almost as large as the main room of her flat in reality – and went through the laborious task of stripping off her soaked clothes. After pulling on a pair of dry skinny jeans and a camisole-cardigan combo, (lamenting that she hadn't had an opportunity to get her hands on some dry underclothes) she was about to deposit the bag in the trash when she noticed something else folded on the bottom of the sack. Curious, she picked it up and found herself holding a silk scarf; navy blue and decorated with golden roses on the border. She hadn't grabbed it herself, so there was only one way it could've gotten into the bag. Smiling, she tied it around her neck.

She walked out into the main room to find Arthur standing near the window, rolling up the sleeves of the pinstriped dress shirt he had just put on. It was tucked into a pair of perfectly pressed jeans and the top two buttons were still undone. "Nice view," he commented, pointing at the window before moving his attention to rolling up the left sleeve. "You build a nice city."

"It would've been nicer if we could actually go out and explore it," she replied, not sure how to take the compliment. The Point Man wasn't one for handing out compliments willy-nilly, and the fact that he'd given her one threw her off her guard.

Arthur grinned, his fingers flicking from the sleeve bunched at his elbow to the buttons at his sternum. "Next time we won't let Yusuf near the champagne," he joked playfully. He gathered his wet clothes - apart from his socks and shoes, which were resting on the floor heating vent - and carried them into the bathroom, and then came back out and took a seat on the luxurious settee.

Ariadne hesitated for a minute before joining him on the sofa, almost sighing as she sank into the cloud-soft cushions. "So, a week, right?"

"Close to," Arthur responded. "Ten hours flight time is two hundred in Dream Time. That comes out to just a bit over eight days. We've been here for–" he glanced at his watch, "– almost seven hours now."

"That's all?" Ariadne asked in alarm.

"Feels longer when you've been jumping through levels, doesn't it?" he said.

"But that means we've still got eight full days left," she protested. "What are we supposed to do down here for eight days?"

Arthur's smile was equal parts charming and mischievous as he glanced sideways at her. "Well first off, how about we enjoy a world with excellent room service and no credit scores," he suggested, pulling out his wallet again. "And then we'll take things from there." She returned his smile as he leaned over and grabbed the phone on the end table.

That night she ate like a queen. They ate their way through several dishes of food that Ariadne would never have been able to afford in the real world. Sure, she had lived in Paris for years but she was also a grad student and barely making ends meet, even with her scholarships. In reality she ate cheap, easily assembled meals in between homework and study groups. Tonight, she and Arthur were splitting pâté and caviare, washing it all down with the sweetest red wine she'd ever tasted.

"You eat like this a lot, don't you?" Ariadne asked, looking across at Arthur as he spread the pâté with a practised hand.

"Not as much as I'd like," he answered. "I spend a lot more time hiding out and eating at cheap diners than I'd willingly admit to. Side-effect of the job," he added at her inquisitive look. "But when I can, I liked to indulge a little. Eating is something I've got to do anyway, so I may as well enjoy it, right?"

Ariadne finished eating in silence, pondering what he'd told her. She was starting to realise that, even with as friendly as they'd gotten since starting on the job together, there still wasn't much that she knew about Arthur. Eight days... She smiled into her wine glass. They had eight more days down here and she was determined that by the end of it she would've figured out this strange man.

"We should get some rest," Arthur said when she'd polished off the rest of her glass.

"Can we do that?" she asked apprehensively. "Can we sleep in a dream? It won't drop us a level, will it?"

"You don't actually sleep," he explained to her, carrying the service tray over and setting it outside of the suite's door. He locked the door securely behind him before coming back over to her. "It's more of – you know that strange halfway point, when you're starting to fall asleep but you're still aware of the world around you?" Ariadne nodded in understanding. "It's like that. You don't really sleep, but it will help the time pass a little faster. Also it's easier on your mind. We have biological habits; eating, moving, sleeping. Resting for a couple hours, even if it's not real, will help keep your mind on track. It'll make it easier to readjust up top."

She nodded, drinking in the information and trying to process. She still wasn't quite sure she understood it all, but she got the basic concept. She stood and walked into the bedroom, pausing in surprise just inside of the door. The room was enormous and lavishly beautiful, everything perfectly coordinated all the way down to the all-too-inviting king size mattress in the middle of the room. "Get some rest," Arthur said from the doorway. "I'll be on the sofa if you need me." She was sure he didn't mean for her to notice, but she caught his hand drifting to the back of his belt, where the utilitarian handgun was hidden.

"Goodnight," she chimed in as he turned to walk out of the room.

Arthur stopped and looked back, a soft smile on his lips. "Goodnight, Ariadne," he responded, and then carefully pulled the door closed behind him. He didn't shut it all the way, leaving it the slightest fraction open so that a beam of light shot across the bedroom. Not sure whether to be grateful or annoyed at the obvious sign of protectiveness, she smiled and crossed to the plush bed.

Stripping down to the camisole and her underwear, she climbed beneath the covers – some of the softest silk she'd ever felt in her life – and lay staring up at the dart of light that was shining across the ceiling. Her mind was reeling at the idea of spending an entire week trapped inside of this dream world, but if the rest of it went the way this evening had, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

As she heard shuffling noises from the next room she thought, at the least, she wasn't here alone. She had Arthur.


	2. Day Two

AN: Wow, I am so excited by the feedback I have gotten so far. It's always mortifying jumping feet-first into a new fandom. The thing I love so much about these characters is that because we're given so little to play off of in the film, it leaves us writers so much room to be creative and invent our own theories. So this chapter involves me going off with my own backstories for these characters, as well as my interpretation of their relationship, so hopefully you all like what I've dreamt up. Things will seem patchy and disjointed at first, but I swear it will all be cleared up before the end.

Also just wanted to toss out a special thanks to _FlamingoOnFire_, who corrected me on making some consistency mistakes in the last chapter. One day perhaps I'll get smart enough to bring on a Beta, but for now you'll just have to deal with my personal brand of typos.

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><p><strong>Day 2<strong>

_"I'll tell you a riddle..."_

_The world around her was crumbling, skeletons of the once former beauty collapsing brick by brick around her. A cold, bone-shaking wind was sweeping through the empty corpses of buildings, wrapping her in a world of debris, dust, and dead air._

_"You're waiting for a train, a train that take you far away..."_

_A large chunk of stone broke free of the building to her right, the block tumbling over itself in slow motion as it hurtled toward the ground. It landed in the sea, and the wave splashed up and over her, drenching her in water that stung like ice and fire. She choked and gasped for breath as the water continued to swirl around her ankles._

_"You know where you hope this train will take you, but you don't know for sure..."_

_To her left an entire building gave way, eight stories of brick and wood caving in like a house of cards. Billowing clouds of ghostly white dust shot skyward, bleaching the already sparse colours of the world around her._

_"...But it doesn't matter..."_

_Vertigo swept through her and she was falling. Steel and glass pillars were all around her as the blank sky got further and further away from her. Through the whipping tendrils of her damp hair she could see the skyscrapers piercing upward into the sky like daggers, their once-gleaming lengths stretching on in her vision as she fell down, ever down..._

_"...How can it not matter to you where the train will take you?"_

_The breath rushed out of her as her back hit the sand. In the same instant a wave barrelled down over her, the force of the water hitting her like a freight train. The moist ground sucked her down and she fought to regain her bearings in this strange place as the shore continued to try and claim her for itself. She tried to push herself up, but the wave kept pressing down on her. The sandy water was filling her mouth and her nose, suffocating her as she frantically tried to reach air again._

_"Tell me; do you know what it is to be a lover?"_

_Above her the piercing white sunlight was being magnified in the rippling water, blinding her in dazzling light. Her mind was swimming, and all she could hear was the rush of the water and the echoing voice in her head; the taunting, accented voice._

_"To be half of a whole?"_

_She clawed at the sand, searching for some purchase, but it continued to drag her under. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Terror filled her even more quickly than the gritty water had flooded into her mouth, making her choke and panic. She was drowning and suffocating at the same time, her lungs full of moisture and sand. Death was coming, sweeping over and tugging at her like the waves that kept pushing her further and further into darkness._

_A hand closed around her upper arm, pulling her free of the water's greedy clutch and as her head finally reached the air..._

"Ariadne!"

Ariadne bolted upright in bed, gasping and choking. Her limbs flailed as she shoved away the clinging presence on her body, scooting backward to safety. Her head was spinning, the world dark around her as she continued to struggle for air. "Hey, hey." There was still a hand, warm and firm, closed around her bicep. "You're okay. Hey. Look at me."

A second hand touched her chin, tipping her head upward, and she found herself staring into a pair of dark, concerned eyes. "You're okay," he said, his tone flat and leaving no room for argument. "You're all right, Ariadne."

Relief mixed in with the fear and as Arthur wrapped an arm around her shoulders she curled herself into his chest, seeking some sense of reality. Her breathing was still laboured but as she leaned her head onto his collarbone she felt calmer, more secure. He was solid. It had only been a memory, lingering just below the surface of her consciousness.

"Are you okay?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm fine," she said. She let herself enjoy the safety of his presence for a second more before she sat up. She realised she had kicked off the blankets in her panic, and hastily pulled them back up to cover her bare legs. Sweeping her hair off her face, she was finally able to face him in the darkened bedroom. His gaze was focused and compassionate, surveying her face anxiously.

"Do you want something? A glass of water, maybe?" he asked gently.

Unable to string together a fluent sentence, Ariadne simply nodded. Arthur stood and crossed the room, and she took the opportunity to gather her composure. She felt something cool on her cheek and when she touched it she realised there was a tear creeping down toward her jaw. She hastily wiped her eyes and had just straightened herself out when the lights suddenly flicked into life.

"Sorry," Arthur said as she instinctively squinted against the light. "Should've warned you." When her eyes had adjusted he was sitting on the mattress beside her, offering out a glass full of water. She accepted it gratefully and took several small sips. As she set the glass on the bedside table she guiltily took in Arthur's appearance. He was wearing nothing but a simple white teeshirt and navy blue boxers, and his normally sleek hair was dishevelled. He had clearly jumped up in a hurry.

"Were you – dreaming?" he asked and there was something apprehensive in his voice.

"Sort of. No, it was more like memories," she admitted. "A lot of different memories all jumbled together."

"They sounded like unpleasant memories," he commented lightly. She didn't respond, licking her lips uncertainly as he regarded her. "Ariadne," he prompted softly. "You can talk to me, you know? If you need to."

"I'm fine," she said dismissively, waving a hand before noticing it was shaking. She promptly buried the offending appendage in the blankets. "It's just this whole job, and Limbo, and dream shar-"

"What?" Arthur cut across her, his eyes narrowing. Ariadne realised what she'd said and immediately flinched. "Limbo?" he asked. "What about it?" She looked down at her lap, not able to meet his gaze, and she heard him let out a low growl when the truth clicked. "You were there, weren't you? You fell into Limbo with Cobb."

"We didn't fall," she offered weakly. "We went, on purpose. To get Fischer out."

"You _went_ into Limbo?" he asked, his tone sharp. "They _let_ you?"

Ariadne's eyes shot up to meet his, her expression defiant. She didn't like his insinuation that the others were making decisions for her. "It was my idea," she rebutted.

Arthur's jaw was clenched and he promptly rolled his eyes skyward. "My God, what were you thinking?" he asked. "You could've been lost down there. What if you hadn't found your way out? Damn it, this is why you weren't supposed to come in the first place."

"Excuse me?" she asked in outrage.

"You're too young," he said, standing up and taking a few agitated steps. "You're too inexperienced. You don't understand the danger you put yourself in."

"I know the danger!" she snapped back, her voice rising slightly. "I was there, Arthur. I saw that world. I saw what it was like. It was horrible, and it was beautiful. Nothing but pure creation and destruction in every direction. I saw it, and I felt that pull. But I knew what I was getting myself into, okay? I'm the one who knew what Cobb was going through. I've seen _his_ dreams. That's why I had to go. He couldn't do it alone, and I was the only one there who could really help him."

Arthur was watching her, his expression tense and guarded. He'd stopped pacing but at the same time he'd stopped moving entirely. After a few long seconds Ariadne began to feel uncomfortable under his fixed stare, and she fidgeted. That seemed to stir him, and he blinked before focusing his gaze on her. "I'm sorry," he said shortly. "I'm just – frustrated." He sighed and sat back down on the edge of the bed. "I just don't like it when things don't go according to plan," he admitted with a slightly sheepish smile.

Ariadne's eyes twinkled. "You must hate working with Cobb then."

"Every day," he agreed and chuckled. "But someone's got to do it." He smoothed his hair back with his fingers again and then stood. "I should let you get some more rest. It's still early."

"I don't think I'm going to get back to sleep," she said flatly.

Arthur nodded. "If you'd like, I'm watching a film in the other room," he offered. "You might not like it, but it can't be much worse than staring at the ceiling."

"Sure," she agreed instantly. "I'll – uh, I'll be there in just a minute," she added as she once again became aware of the fact that she was sitting there in her still slightly damp underwear.

His response was a simple nod and then he padded silently out of the room. Once she was sure he'd gone, she climbed off the bed and snatched her jeans from where they were folded over an armchair. She pulled them on before walking out into the main room.

Arthur was sitting on the sofa, now wearing his jeans again as well, and he glanced up at her as she came in. "I don't know if you're into older films, but it's-"

"_Casablanca_," she finished for him, her eyes lighting up as they fell on the television screen. "I love this film." Arthur seemed surprised, but he didn't say anything as she plopped down on the cushion next to him, simply turning up the volume slightly and leaning back.

Normally Ariadne was uncomfortable with sitting still and being silent for long periods of time, but somehow this didn't bother her. They sat on either end of the sofa, and the only sound between them was the steady drawl of Humphrey Bogart, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was – peaceful. Before Sam had finished playing their song again, she had once again drifted into that vague state of consciousness.

. . . . .

Arthur kept an eye on her during the film, and once her eyes had fluttered shut and her breathing slowed, he grabbed the remote and turned the volume down several notches. Now that she was sleeping, he let out the agitated breath he'd been hiding and he dragged a hand back through his hair. What had Cobb been thinking, taking her down into Limbo with him? This was her very first job. What if she hadn't made it back?

That thought frightened him more than he wanted to admit and he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees for support. It was wrong, in every way. He wasn't supposed to get close to people. He was the Point Man. He was paid to be stoic and clear-headed, rational and unbiased. In this team, Lord knew he was the only one who was capable of being pragmatic. However since the arrival of their new Architect, being level-headed was getting harder and harder to do.

Still, as much as he tried to repress it, he couldn't deny his attraction to her. It wasn't just that she was pretty – which she was, exceedingly so, in a most refreshingly true-to-self way. No, it was her mind that really fascinated him. She was strikingly intelligent, open-minded and inventive. There was something in her strength and determination that set his soul on fire. Training together had been like a constant competition; him supplying a new challenge and her mastering it with increasing speed. No matter what new trick he threw at her, she found a way to not only return but best his attempts. She was sharp and sarcastic and quick-witted. She was – _perfect_.

But he couldn't let himself get too involved. She wasn't supposed to be a part of this sort of life anyway. It was bad enough that she'd been pulled from her real life to design for them, but then bringing her into the Dreamscape too? No, it couldn't continue. He knew all too well what happened when romantic relationships were brought into the Dreamscape, and not just from watching the Cobb tragedy first-hand.

Ariadne shuddered and Arthur cast a quick, frantic glance at her. He was nervous that she would experience another nightmare like she had before, but her face still seemed relaxed. She trembled again and he finally recognised the motion: a shiver. Standing up, he went into the next room and peeled the duvet off of the mattress. He tucked it carefully around her, being gentle so as not to disturb her, and then moved to the window seat.

Outside the sky was still a dark and gloomy grey, half-hidden behind persistent sheets of rain, and the stark metallic buildings seemed dull in the low lighting cast by windows and streetlamps. He thought back to the training sessions spent in this place, the skyscrapers stretching ever onward into the blue horizon, and found himself cursing Yusuf and his tiny bladder. It would have been nice to stroll the streets of her creation together. He enjoyed watching the light in her eyes that always sparked at seeing the world she had built with her mind. She really was a superb Architect.

He sat by the window, watching the city slowly coming to life despite the grim weather, and finally the need to be doing something propelled him to his feet. Pulling on his button-down, he turned on the coffee machine in the kitchenette, and then checked once for his wallet and the room key before regretfully slipping out into the hallway. For the entire ride down to the lobby he felt anxious and uneasy, hating to leave her behind. She had a particular talent for getting herself into trouble and he felt better when he could keep an eye on her. He forced himself to calm and clear his head. It was just a short trip, just picking up a few things from the shops in the lobby, and then he'd get back before she would even wake up. Nothing to worry about.

He looked up at the light dictating which floor the lift was on and willed it to go faster.

. . . . .

It was the smell of coffee that dragged her back to awareness. This time the images in her mind had been vague and pleasant, mostly of panoramic views and soft music. Although the _Champs-Élysées_ faded from her vision as she pried her eyes open, the strains of classical music lingered and she pushed herself upright, looking around to get her bearings.

She was still on the sofa in the living room of the hotel suite, a heavy blanket tucked around her huddled body. Further exploration showed that the television had been turned off, but a small stereo system built into the entertainment console was on and piping out a gentle symphony number in a language she couldn't immediately place. Panning further to the side, she finally spotted Arthur, sitting in the bench set into the window, blowing on a cup of coffee and reading a thick paperback novel.

"Morning," he said without looking up from the page. "There's coffee in the machine there." He gestured to the pot on the counter in the little kitchenette tucked into the corner of the room.

Ariadne shoved off the blanket and stretched her cramped muscles. "Sleeping on the sofa isn't even comfortable in dreams," she muttered dejectedly as she crossed to the kitchenette.

In her periphery she caught Arthur's short smirk. "Sorry. I'd have moved you to the bed but I was afraid it would wake you up," he explained. "I didn't want to bother you. It looked like you were sleeping better than before."

"Much," she agreed. She poured herself a large cup of the steaming liquid and added several gratuitous spoonfuls of sugar. She was just about to turn away when her eyes landed on a small tray of pastries on the counter, and she hummed eagerly as she snatched up a cinnamon twist. Leaning a hip against the counter, she munched on the pastry while she waited for her coffee to cool enough to drink.

Even though she'd slept peacefully enough this time, she couldn't quite shake the nightmare she'd had before. The images of desolation and decay that she'd seen in Limbo were still dancing through her mind: towering skyscrapers crumbling into the sea; once charming homes with gaping, fractured windows; the persistent hiss of the wind howling through the hollow shells of once glorious architecture; the debris-littered shoreline stretching on into forever as the waves threatened to drag her under. But worst of all was Mal's voice, that lilting accent almost mocking her as she spoke of her intense love.

Ariadne took a tentative sip of her coffee as she mused about the ache she had felt in her chest at those words. It was true. Despite her few years of living in what was described as the most romantic city on earth, she had never actually been in love before. Sure, she'd had boyfriends, several of them over her various years of schooling, but they had all been short-lived and immature. There had never been anything like Mal had spoken of; none of that sense of completion in togetherness, none of that pure trust and devotion.

"Are you okay?" Arthur's voice cut through her thoughts and Ariadne glanced up, her eyes wide as if she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. He was frowning slightly, his book lowered to his lap and the thick worry lines carving across his forehead.

"Fine," she said quickly, plastering on a smile. When she realised it wasn't a very convincing look, she hastily hid it behind the ceramic mug. Scrambling for some way to cover her slip, she finally asked a question that had been tugging at her mind for days. "Is it true that after Dream-Sharing you can't dream on your own anymore?"

"Yes," Arthur said simply, lifting his coffee cup and taking a swallow. Catching her slightly disturbed look, he added, "But don't worry, you haven't put in near enough hours for it to affect you."

Ariadne made an indistinct noise, considering the slowly swirling contents of her cup. "I think after all of this, maybe I don't want to dream anymore," she admitted awkwardly. "At least not for a while."

"We've all felt that way before," he replied and his tone had turned gentle. "It will pass."

Intrigued by the faint sadness in his tone, Ariadne glanced up at him once more. "Do you still dream?"

There was something almost sardonic in the twist of his lips as he contemplated her. "Not for almost two years now," he answered casually. "Cobb and I were preparing for a job when they started to fade. I knew it would happen eventually, but it was so abrupt it set me on edge; made me a little panicky. I nearly blew the job for us."

Ariadne's forehead knitted as she considered this. Arthur was always cool and collected. Even when things had gone wrong during the job he had kept himself together and found a way to pull things back into one piece. It felt wrong to think about him ever acting out, especially enough to botch a job. "Do you miss it?" she asked, prompted by his apparent openness.

Arthur stared at the linen-coloured pages of his book so intently that for a minute she thought he might not answer her. Finally he took a steady breath and said, "I didn't at first, really, once I'd accepted it. It was almost nice to have a reprieve from it all; to be able to sleep and not worry if my mind was being infiltrated. But after a while I started to miss the freedom. I miss being able to just go to sleep and let my mind wander, without thinking about the job." His eyes slid up to meet hers over the top ridge of his book and he smirked as he added matter-of-factly, "But I don't miss the nightmares."

Before she could ask another question, he stood up and walked into the kitchen. He stopped right in front of her and she was momentarily struck dumb by his proximity. He towered over her and all she could see was his chiselled face and the sleek, slim lines of his torso beneath his well-fitted teeshirt in front of her. Her breath caught in her throat. As if he could sense her thoughts, his lips curved smugly. A hand reached forward, toward her –

And then directly passed her shoulder to grab the coffee pot from the countertop. He deliberately poured himself a cup of black coffee and then flashed a small smile before turning and heading back to his perch.

Heart thrumming treacherously, Ariadne let out a breath slowly and quickly turned her focus to her gradually cooling coffee cup. It was like he was teasing her with these little moments. She didn't know why she let herself fall for it, although she had a feeling it had something to do with those deep, searching eyes and those damn stupid dimples lurking at the corners of his half-hidden smile. Hating herself for her jumbled thoughts, she topped off her drink and then retreated to the sofa.

Halfway through her coffee, she got tired of vainly trying to focus on something besides the silent figure on the window bench. Her eyes cast around the room until they finally landed on a pad of paper beside the telephone, meant for taking messages, and she snatched it and the nearby pencil up. Stretching out across the settee, she propped one knee up to use as a table and then started drawing.

. . . . .

The room stayed silent until late afternoon. Arthur was more than halfway through his book already and he reluctantly noted that if he kept going at this pace he'd have it finished by the next morning. He wished they were back in reality. Up there he could always find something to keep himself busy; his job was a never-ending research project, and there was always another aspect to search out. Down here, he was limited by the things that had been supplied by Fischer and Yusuf's minds. It had been a miracle he'd even found a decent book in the downstairs shop to read, albeit one he'd already read several times.

Folding down the corner of the page, he closed the book and set it aside on the bench. His eyes flicked over to the room's only other occupant. Ariadne was fixated on whatever she was drawing, her hair twisted up in a clumsy knot on top of her head. She had been busy at it for hours now, occasionally grumbling and crushing a piece of paper in her hand before starting on a new page. He curiously wondered what she was doing, but he didn't ask.

"Ariadne," he said gently. She jumped and blinked owlishly once, twice, and then three times before her gaze finally seemed to focus on him. "I was just thinking about stretching my legs, maybe going down to get something to eat. Would you care to join me?"

"Sure," she said and her smile was soft, if slightly distracted. "Just let me get, uh, dressed all the way." He smiled at her awkwardness but nodded as she stood and disappeared into the bedroom. He pulled on his dress shirts and retrieved both of their jackets – mercifully dried from their hours of hanging in the shower – and then met her in the living room as she came back out fully dressed. His eyes lingered for a second on the navy blue scarf he had bought for her tied around her throat before her movement stirred him.

He offered her his elbow once the lift had reached the lobby floor, and she took it without question. Deep down he knew that he didn't need to do it. They weren't attracting any attention from the Projections, so rationally there was no need to be so obvious in their play-acting as a couple. Then the masochistic voice in the back of his mind reminded him that this was the only place he could allow himself to be close to her without getting them into trouble, so he may as well enjoy it while he could.

Wanting to step out and get out of the hotel, Arthur led her out to the pavement and from beneath the awning he squinted at the nearby buildings. Ariadne caught his attention by pointing and he followed the direction of her finger until he spotted the little restaurant tucked into the opposite street. He opened up the umbrella he'd purchased from the shop and they set off through the soggy street, vainly trying to avoid puddles in the pavement as they headed for the restaurant.

It was a simple place, a sit-down chain restaurant but not the sort where people were dressed to the nines as they ate fifty-dollar dishes. Arthur was relieved to see that. In their jeans and with their slightly rumpled appearances, they would probably draw an unhealthy amount of attention in a place like that. A stone-faced host led them to a small booth on one side and when they had ordered drinks – he a tap beer and she a fruity daiquiri – they were left alone.

"I didn't take you for a neon drinker," he commented lightly.

Ariadne returned his teasing smirk without batting an eye. "I thought I may as well try while we're here," she said simply. "Isn't that what dream – _vacations_ like this are all about? New experiences?" Arthur chuckled slightly at the way she covered her slip, but conceded the point and nodded. "Do you ever try new things?" she asked, scrutinising him thoughtfully.

"I'm not as much a stick in the mud as Eames will lead you to believe," he responded. "But I also have favourites that I prefer to stick to. In my line of work, surprises are not exactly a good thing." She bit her lip and inclined her head, accepting the answer.

They lapsed into quiet as they perused the menus, and didn't speak again until the waiter had dropped off their drinks and taken their orders. Inspired by the conversation, Arthur requested a dinner he had never tried before, shooting a pointed smile at Ariadne as he did so. There was a pleased grin on her face as she handed her menu off to the flushed waiter.

"You know, you're something of a mystery." Ariadne's statement made him lift his eyebrows curiously. "I was just thinking that there's not much I know about you. Is Arthur even your real name?"

He could tell by the light in her eyes that she was joking, but he smirked as he replied. "Arthur Dylan Pembroke, Jr. to be more specific," he said and felt a sort of satisfaction as her eyes widened.

"That's a mouthful," she remarked.

Arthur laughed into his glass. "Yes, well, I guess my father thought he should leave me at least one thing," he said blankly, the emotions he'd once felt over the fact carefully concealed behind years of practise. Ariadne's gaze turned questioning but he quickly turned the conversation around before she could ask. "What about you?"

"Ariadne Grace Bishop," she recited. "A little boring compared to yours." She swirled her drink around in its glass for a minute, her lips pursed with thought, and Arthur could tell that another question was coming. He braced himself to brush off the predictable question about his father, but she surprised him by asking, "Where are you from?"

"Most recently, Tokyo," he said.

Ariadne narrowed her eyes. "You know what I meant."

"I grew up in Pennsylvania," he relented. "Not too far outside of Pittsburgh. Seedy area, I wouldn't recommend it." He could see that he had surprised her again, and he could almost watch the assumptions she'd made about him crumbling apart in her mind. "You?"

"Deerfield, Illinois," she answered. "It's a nice place, right on the shore of Lake Michigan. Family?"

"Just my mum now," Arthur said, and promptly raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

"My parents have been married almost forty years," she said and chuckled. "And I've got four older brothers, not counting Eames who I think has unofficially adopted me." Arthur smiled, amused by both the fact and her insightful comment. It was definitely true that the Forger had taken a special liking to her, but then they all felt a bit protective toward the young Architect. Although her family life explained how easily she was able to handle working with so many men. "They had all my brothers within a couple years of each other, and then there was a seven year gap between Ajax and me. I learned to hold my own pretty well."

"Ajax?" Arthur asked interestedly.

Ariadne gave a soft giggle, and he watched with fascination as it made her cheeks brighten with delight. "All of us have Greek names, even though neither of my parents have a drop of Greek blood in them," she explained. "Dad's a classical history professor. Greek was always his favourite. We're all named after mythological Greek heroes. Jason and Hector lucked out well enough, but Ajax and Chrysus have had a harder time of it."

Arthur couldn't hold back an outright laugh at this, and he realised it was the first time in a long time he'd actually laughed. It wasn't that he was never amused – even with as annoying as he was, Eames did crack the occasional good joke – it was just that he generally preferred to temper his humour down into a simple smile. Ariadne seemed as taken aback by it as he was, but she smiled wider and her eyes sparkled playfully.

The rest of their meal passed in much the same way. They exchanged trivial questions over the dinner, commenting on stupid things such as likes and dislikes. Arthur did a good job at keeping her questions from becoming too probing without outright snubbing her. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but he made a living of secrets and deceptions. Opening himself up to her, and especially considering the fact that he was already dangerously close to getting too invested, was a foolish thing to do.

They were both full and relaxed when they returned to the hotel later that night. Ariadne excused herself to shower, claiming that she could smell the river water in her hair and couldn't handle it any longer, and Arthur made himself comfortable on the sofa once more. He picked up his book and thumbed lazily through the pages until he found the spot where he'd left off, even though his mind couldn't focus on the words. Honestly, he couldn't stop thinking about her.

This was going to be a _long_ week.

. . . . .

Ariadne stood underneath the rushing water and let her mind uncoil. She could tell that Arthur was being guarded, but even still he had given her a lot to think about. She had admittedly made a lot of basic presumptions about him when they'd met. It was hard not to, looking at him with his perfectly composed expressions and his fancy suits.

And yet the short glimpses into his past that he'd given her were of a broken family and a hard youth. The possibility of it being a lie was completely out of the question. If Arthur didn't want to answer a question he deflected, but he had never lied to her. Of the few things she was positive of when it came to Arthur, that was the top of the list. So how had that boy grown into the man she knew now?

Shaking away those thoughts for the time being, she dried and dressed. Out in the living room Arthur was once again immersed in his paperback novel, the low hum of a classical song coming from the stereo on the other wall. She could tell he heard her approach by the way his hand stilled on his knee. "I think I'm going to turn in," she said.

Arthur looked up and the familiar twinkle of amusement had appeared in the corner of his dark, soul-piercing eyes. "Goodnight, Ariadne," he said gently. She hated the way her name on his lips sent a much-too-pleasant chill down her spine.

Before she could lose her nerve, she took his hand and squeezed it. "Goodnight." As she turned away she didn't miss the small curve of his lips, or the way his freed hand instinctively went to his pocket, where the loaded die was always hidden. Arthur was a challenge, but if there was one thing she was good at, it was solving a puzzle. She would make sense of him before the week was out. Of that she was certain.


	3. Day Three

Day 3

_"Artie!" Arthur pivoted on the pavement, turning around to face the speaker: a child, with youthfully rounded cheeks and sparkling dark eyes. He was standing on the opposite side of the road, wearing a broad, sunshine grin. "Artie, wait up!"_

_Dread bloomed in Arthur's chest like a poison. He knew what came next, and he was still as powerless to stop it as he'd been every other time. "Griffin, no!" The words exploded out of him in a voice not quite his own; high and terrified. At the same moment, the little boy bolted out into the street. Red and white sparked in his vision as Arthur's legs carried him forward like casters, flying toward the boy with everything in him. There was the loud blast of a horn, screams, and then with a sickening crunching noise the world disappeared in white and then dark._

Arthur sat up, breathing heavily. It was still dark in the pre-dawn sitting room and he shivered at the cold sweat that had broken out across his body. _Concentrate,_ he commanded himself mentally. _Breathe. Slow; in, hold, out._

As his heart rate steadied, he pulled a hand through his sleep-tangled hair, frustrated with himself. He normally did such a great job of clearing his head before resting, so he wouldn't have to relive moments like that. Talking with Ariadne last night, letting her dance so close to the answers but not giving them away, had let the memories that he usually kept at bay claw their way to the surface. They weren't the sort that manifested and endangered his work, but that didn't mean he enjoyed visions of bloodied child-size trainers. Especially not when he was already so stressed.

Arthur grumbled irritably and shoved aside the duvet that had been left on the sofa. He needed to focus his mind. On the way to the bathroom he paused briefly to check that Ariadne was still peacefully resting, and then he locked himself away and climbed into the overly-ornate shower.

The heavy steam filled the air quickly as he let the scalding water bite against his bare skin. He liked the prickling burn that it caused – not enough to cause him serious pain but a level of discomfort that gave him a sense of reality. It grounded him in the moment and helped to wash away the distant memories that had been teasing with his unguarded mind. The practise in and of itself was a dangerous line to toe, he knew that. But if he wasn't focused on the present then he'd slip up and get not just himself but Ariadne killed. He couldn't risk that, even if it meant the return to reality jarred him more than usual.

When his skin was thoroughly reddened and the prickling had switched to pain, he shut off the water and towelled himself. He pulled on his underwear and jeans, and then promptly plunged his hand into his pocket. The red die felt off between his fingers, the weight evenly distributed to each side. With a slight shake he dropped it onto the stone countertop. It bounced and rolled three times before landing on two._ A dream_. Content, he tucked it safely into his pocket, grabbed his teeshirt, and walked out into the sitting room.

"Oh." The surprised noise alerted Arthur to the fact that he wasn't alone and he quickly looked over at where Ariadne was perched on the window bench. There was a pad of paper in her lap, but at the moment her wide eyes were fixed on his bare chest. Torn between satisfaction and embarrassment, Arthur hastily tugged the shirt over his head.

"Sorry, didn't know you were awake," he said, scrambling to regain his usual bravado. There was a strange look in the Architect's eyes – part shock and something that almost looked like hunger – that made heat blossom inside of his lower abdomen. To cover, he headed straight for the kitchenette. She had already started the coffee machine while he was in the shower but he grudgingly realised that there wasn't nearly enough for a cup yet.

"Yeah, I only just got up a few minutes ago," she admitted. Her voice sounded oddly breathless, which did nothing to relieve the twisting in Arthur's stomach. She cleared her throat and continued, "Just thought I'd claim the best seat before you got to it."

Arthur smiled, devoting himself to the conversation to avoid the inappropriate thoughts lurking in the back of his mind. "It's got a nice view, doesn't it?" he agreed diplomatically, glancing passed her to the grey skyline.

"Hard to believe that it's not real," she said with a faint note of awe. "That I made all of this, an entire city, and it will never actually exist."

"Pure creation," he quoted her and she smiled at him in response.

"Exactly."

Arthur cocked a hip against the counter and dragged a hand through his damp hair, shoving it back off his forehead. When Ariadne giggled lightly he looked up at her questioningly. "Nothing, it's just I think this is the first time I've ever seen you without your hair styled," she commented in amusement. Feeling slightly self-conscious, he combed his fingers through his hair again in a vain attempt to smooth it. "It looks good, it's just – different."

His lips twisting up, Arthur said, "I'm not positive, but I'm going to assume that was a compliment."

Ariadne returned his smirk playfully. "All I'm saying is that since I've met you I've never seen you in anything but suits, with your hair all gelled back," she elaborated. "And that stupid smug look on your face," she added, which only made his grin widen. "It's interesting to see you looking so casual." She regarded him thoughtfully. "Do you ever _do_ casual?"

"I own jeans," he supplied. With a huff of annoyance, she shot him a pointed look. "I told you last night. I have patterns and habits. I like things to be the same, because in my life unusual things are usually deadly." The coffee machine clicked and he glanced down at the filled pot. Pulling out two mugs, he poured one for both of them and added several spoonfuls of sugar to hers before crossing the room and handing it to her.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, setting aside her sketchpad and accepting the coffee. "So what you're saying is that you always look like you're dressed for a job interview?"

This made Arthur chuckle into his coffee. "My job doesn't work on a typical schedule, in case you haven't noticed," he pointed out. "I've been pulled into meetings for jobs in the middle of the night before. Best to look professional when I can." He shrugged. "Besides, if I can afford to dress well, why shouldn't I take that opportunity? You can't tell me you're not going to go clothes shopping once we get paid for this catastrophe."

Ariadne chewed at her bottom lip, the look on her face telling him that he was right and she just didn't want to admit to it. "Maybe," she said with forced casualness.

"I thought so," he said smugly and took a sip of his coffee. "Now if you're done grilling me on my grooming habits..." He trailed off teasingly and she rolled her eyes before turning her attention to her sketches, effectively dismissing him. Arthur grinned triumphantly as he stretched out on the sofa and grabbed his book off the table.

. . . . .

It was difficult to tell time in this world, and that was starting to really frustrate her. Ariadne grumbled angrily and turned her pencil around in her fingers, smashing the eraser against the page and rubbing away her blemish. It would seem like hours had passed, but she would look up at the clock in the kitchen to see that it had only been ten minutes; other times, although much less frequently, she would think only minutes had gone by to see that it had been an entire hour. The constant uneasiness was making her feel even more stir-crazy than she'd been to begin with.

Her flighty mind was doing nothing to calm her either. She had tried to focus on the sketches she was doing, planning out elaborate constructions and designing buildings, but it wasn't entirely successful. A large portion of her time was spent worrying; not just about her own fate, but about Cobb and Eames and Yusuf, and even Saito although she hardly knew him. She had no idea what any of them were up to at the moment. Was Eames still impersonating Fischer's godfather, or had he split and gone into hiding like them? Had Yusuf gotten somewhere safe? What about Cobb? Had he found Saito yet? How much time had passed down there? Were they waiting for the sedatives to wear off so they could Kick their way up as well? Or were they lost in Limbo?

Ariadne let out a heavy breath and tried to force her mind onto other matters. Although since she was currently frustrated with the cathedral dome she was sketching, that left her mind to wander to the other topic which seemed to be taking up most of its attention: the smarmy Point Man who was currently stretched out lazily on the sofa pretending to read, even though he hadn't turned a page in fifteen minutes. Not that she was paying attention or anything...

She was having a hard time figuring out exactly what his angle was. He gave off all of these warnings and signals, saying that it was dangerous for co-workers to be involved, especially in their business. Every time she thought she was getting closer to understanding him, he would carefully shut the door and keep her out. But then he would pull a stunt like yesterday when he'd cornered her in front of the coffee machine. He knew exactly what he'd done to her; she could read it on his face. He had known what his proximity had done to her already racing heart, and he'd smirked before walking away.

Was he toying with her? Was he simply teasing her, for his own entertainment? After all, this was a Dream. Did that mean that nothing that happened down here was really real? What about that kiss? The one they'd shared in the lobby of the hotel? _Their_ hotel; the one she had built and he had filled. Had that been nothing too?

And why the hell did she care so much? This was getting ridiculous. She didn't like Arthur that way. Did she? No, of course not. Sure, he was attractive as hell, and a gentleman to boot, but what she really liked was the challenge. She liked figuring him out, piece by piece. So if a little flirting occurred in the process, she could dish it out as well as she could take it. After all, they'd flirted before when they'd been preparing for this job. It was natural, just part of the way they communicated. Kept the serious business from getting too imposing. That didn't have to change just because he'd tricked her into kissing him – because he _had_ tricked her; she was sure he'd known it wouldn't work in distracting the Projections.

"Ariadne." His voice startled her and she looked over at him to find those dark brown eyes sparkling at her over the top of his book. "I'm no expert but I think if you rub that eraser on there any harder, you're going to shred the paper."

Surprised, she looked down to realise that she'd been steadily scrubbing her eraser over the sketch the entire time she'd been thinking. The blemish had vanished, but the paper where it had been was also obliterated. Snorting in frustration, she flipped the page and set out about recreating her drawing on a fresh sheet of paper. On the other side of the room she heard him chuckle quietly, a deep rumble that she could almost feel hanging in the air around them.

She pictured him the way she'd seen him first thing this morning; his skin still spattered with moisture, dark hair hanging into those eyes, his jeans hanging loosely around his hips, revealing the place where his lean stomach muscles came together and disappeared beneath the fabric. A shirtless and wet Arthur was not exactly what she'd expected to see first thing in the morning, but now it was hard not to think about. Especially when combined with that deep laugh and the memory of the way her name sounded in his voice.

_Shit. _If this was a game, she was losing. Horrifically.

Forcing those thoughts to the back of her mind, she tried to immerse herself once again into her sketch. It was an aimless work, really. There was no chance that in reality she would ever be commissioned to design a cathedral the likes of which she'd seen around the old parts of Paris, but she enjoyed it anyway. Perhaps one day she would create it in a dream, just to see how it looked. For now it was nothing more than a handful of rough drawings; the sweeping, ornate dome, and the wide altar with a pipe organ threaded into the wall artistically, and the classic cruciform shape of the building itself.

"That looks amazing."

For the second time, Ariadne jolted into awareness. She had gotten so lost in her sketches that she hadn't even heard him moving, and now Arthur was standing directly beside her. He leaned down to peer over her shoulder at the sketch and his forehead furrowed in concentration. Her hands longed to smooth the harsh lines in his brow, and she hastily fisted them in her lap to control herself. "It's just a bit of doodling," she said humbly, batting aside his praise even as her cheeks grew warm.

"Well it's good doodling then," he replied without missing a beat. "I'd love to see this place finished. I've always liked churches and cathedrals. Art in the form of a building." There was a smile lingering around the corner of his mouth, this one more genuine than playful, but before she could get a good look it had vanished again. "You're very talented."

"Thank you," she mumbled, flushing with pleasure. It didn't escape her notice that this was the second time he'd complimented her in the last few days. Two genuine compliments in one week must be some sort of record for the straight-laced Point Man.

He sat down on the coffee table, facing her, and propped his elbows on his knees in a familiar stance. "Did you always know you wanted to be an architect?" he asked curiously.

"Well this is a little different than I was planning on," she said, gesturing around at the Dreamscape pointedly, "but yes, I think I always knew. I was drawing and dreaming up places and buildings before I even knew what an architect was. I loved buildings. My favourite thing was when my dad would take me on trips into Chicago and we'd just walk down the streets, and I could look up at all of the towering buildings and all their different styles." She watched the earnest smile that crossed Arthur's face and added, "What about you? Did you always want to be a Point Man?"

Arthur chuckled, straightening the collar of his teeshirt distractedly. "Considering Dream-Sharing didn't even exist when we were kids, no," he said.

"Then what did you want to do?" she pressed eagerly. "Someone as smart as you must've gone to university, right?"

"Cambridge," he answered with just a hint of smugness again. "I was there on scholarship, studying Art History." Ariadne could actually feel her eyes enlarging in surprise. Of all the things she'd anticipated – lawyer or businessman, or something distinguished like that, being the top of the list – that had never been one of them. Arthur seemed to be motivated by her shock because he continued, "I was studying to become a curator."

"Like in a museum?" she asked. She envisioned a large, ancient museum and thought that Arthur would not look out of place there, even if she was still having a hard time wrapping her head around the idea of him studying art.

"I was interning at the Fitzwilliam Museum on campus while I was studying there," he admitted by way of response. "I loved the research involved; finding and acquiring pieces, authentication, compiling the information for the displays and the tours. It was a constant challenge, but one I was good at. And I loved the art, had ever since I was a kid. I remember taking a school trip to the Carnegie in Pittsburgh – I was only about eight at the time – and as I walked around there I just knew that's the sort of place I wanted to spend my life."

Ariadne laughed under her breath and it made Arthur shoot her a questioning look. "I just think it's funny that everyone's always calling you the practical and non-creative one, but you went to school to study art," she explained. "It's sort of ironic."

"I warned you not to trust Eames' opinion of me," he replied teasingly. "Just because I'm not creative myself doesn't mean that I don't know how to appreciate the creativity of others."

"I don't know," she countered, shaking her head and fixing him with a shrewd look. "I think you're much more creative than anyone gives you credit for. I mean, you did manage to figure out a way to drop us without gravity. That must've taken some abstract thinking."

"Maybe," Arthur said evasively but she didn't miss the glimmer of pleasure that flickered through his expression before he ducked his head and stared at his interwoven hands appraisingly.

"How _did_ you do that?" she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

"Attached the explosives to the lift," he said, and when he looked up at her again his face had been schooled back into the usual neutral expression. "It shot the lift down the shaft and the collision was the Kick."

Ariadne paused, running over that scenario in her mind, and felt the corner of her lips curve up. "That's good," she commented. "I wouldn't have thought of that."

Arthur smirked. "Of course you would've," he said. "Or at least something like it. You're just flattering me, Miss Bishop."

"That's possible," she agreed playfully. "Just like with my doodling, right?"

He caught her off guard by shaking his head. "No, it's not flattery if it's true," he corrected. "That makes it a compliment."

Determined not to be outdone, she said, "Well then I was complimenting you, Mister Pembroke." She gave him a daring look and then abruptly turned her focus back to the sketchpad in her lap. As she started darkening the outer lines of the stained-glass windows beneath the dome, there was a slightly stunned silence from the direction of the coffee table. And then Arthur laughed quietly again and relocated to the kitchenette.

"There's nothing in there except a basket of fruit," she commented without looking up as he opened the refrigerator.

"We might have to fix that," he replied. She glanced up to see him opening the plastic wrap around the basket and pulled out a brilliantly green apple. "I'm going to order room service again. You want anything from here while we wait?"

"An orange if there is one," she said. Arthur plucked one from the basket and tossed it to her on his way across the room. Ariadne caught it and set aside her sketchpad, her attention captivated by the almost unnaturally perfect orange sphere in her hands. That was one thing that was nice about Dreams: the food was almost always spectacular. Digging her nails into the peel, she started to chip it away in strips and breathed in the delicious aroma of fresh citrus.

As she gnawed at the juicy wedges, she listened to Arthur talking on the phone with the room service operator. He was straight-forward but genial as he spoke, exuding that same aura of purpose wrapped around kindness that he always seemed to bear. She wondered if that was something he'd been born with, or if it was a skill he'd learnt while studying at Cambridge. She had a hard time imagining him ever behaving differently than the man she saw in front of her now, but then if the revelations of the last few days had taught her anything it was that she should never make assumptions.

Cambridge fit easily into her original outline of him, and she'd even been able to accept the art history love after the initial shock had worn off, but beyond that there were still too many holes.

"I hope you like Indian food," he said as he set the phone's handset back into its cradle.

"I'm not a picky eater," she replied with a shrug.

"Good because I felt like trying something different," he said. Ariadne's stomach leapt slightly at the pointedness of his statement, and she knew he meant it as a jibe to her comment from the day before. He had deliberately ordered something out of the ordinary at the restaurant, and now he was doing it again, all because of what she'd said about taking on new experiences. She couldn't stop the thrill of pleasure and excitement that that sent through her body.

. . . . .

Arthur passed a folded bill to the blank-faced delivery boy and accepted the paper sacks. He watched the boy turn and walk away before he shut the door and double-checked the locks suspiciously. Content that they were secure, he carried the food in to the coffee table and set it down. Ariadne had already set aside her sketching at the sound of the knock on the door, and she was settling herself down on the sofa as he opened the bags of food.

"It smells delicious," she said eagerly, tucking her legs up beside her and leaning forward curiously.

"I hope so," Arthur said. He pulled out various take-away cartons and set them out across the tabletop, and then as he tossed the empty sacks into the trash bin he grabbed two plates from the kitchenette. "I've no idea what's what, so just dish up whatever you like."

"You've really never eaten Indian food before?" she asked, taking the spoon he handed out to her and using it to dish up her plate.

Arthur smirked. "Does that surprise you so much?"

"A little," she admitted. "You've been all over the world, haven't you? I just figured you must've been to India one time and eaten something there."

"I was in India about two years ago," he said. He sniffed the contents of a carton dubiously before scooping some onto his plate. "But it was only for a few hours. A transfer on a flight to Burma."

Ariadne grinned and shook her head. "Burma? Is there anywhere you _haven't_ been?"

"Antarctica," he answered smoothly. "Somehow we keep missing it." He smiled as Ariadne laughed behind her hand. "What about you? Have you been anywhere interesting?"

She glanced up and gave him a scrutinising look, her eyes twinkling. "Why do you keep asking those sort of questions?" she asked. "I'm sure you already know all of the answers. You probably ran a full background search on me before I even walked into the warehouse for the first time. I'll bet you know everything from my social security number to my primary school teachers' names. After all, knowing is your job, isn't it?"

"True enough," he agreed diplomatically. "It's just manners." He took a bite of the chicken on his plate, chewing it pensively as he mused over the tangy flavour. After he'd swallowed, he looked back up at her and added, "Besides, maybe I like hearing the answers better from you. I know facts, but you have stories. Those are much more informative than a spreadsheet of data."

She smirked playfully. "Be careful, Point Man. Keep it up and I'll think you're interested in me or something."

Arthur returned the grin as he carefully tried to school his complexion while the heat crept up the back of his neck. The last thing he needed was for her to know just how interested in her that he really was. "I just like to know about the people I work with," he said casually. "This is the sort of business where secrets can get us killed."

"You think there's something in my past that can get you killed?" she asked tauntingly.

"Not that I can tell so far," he replied with an arched eyebrow. "But that's why I ask questions."

Ariadne stared at him thoughtfully over the rim of her drinking glass, and then she took a sip and nodded. "All right, I think I can accept that answer for now," she said and he noted that she didn't even try to hide the fact that she was teasing him. "On one condition. Any question about me that you ask, you have to answer it too."

"Now I'm suspicious," he said without much conviction. "It's not your job to know things, so why should I agree to that?"

"Because in this business, secrets can get us killed," she replied without batting an eye, although there was a distinctive curl at the corner of her mouth that made him focus all of his will power on not returning the grin. "I like to know about the people I'm working with."

Arthur hastily stuck a forkful of food into his mouth to disguise the smile he couldn't completely contain. No matter how many times she managed to twist and outsmart him, he never got tired of the challenge. While he chewed he focused his expression into his practised one, and by the time he'd swallowed he was back in Point Man mode. "Very well," he said with a nod.

"Good," she said proudly. "Well then, what's your first question?"

"Are you going to go back to architecture in the real world after this?" he asked the loaded question that had been weighing on his mind for the entirety of the months since they'd started working on this job. Ever since the first time they'd done paradox and maze building together, he had seen the world of possibilities unfolding in her eyes. He could see the draw – that same pull that kept them all coming back over and over again like addicts. He had also seen so many people lose their real lives to the dream worlds, and he didn't want to watch that happen to someone as young and talented as their Architect.

Ariadne prodded her food around her plate thoughtfully, swirling it together into a colourful, indistinct mash, and chewed at her lip while she pondered the right words. "I love Dream Building," she admitted sincerely. "I love the way that I can cheat reality, and gravity, and the very basic laws of physics. It's empowering and fascinating. But I don't want every great accomplishment in my life to have only been a Dream." She looked up and the intensity of her stare was slightly disarming, despite the continued presence of her smile. "I want to build something that will still be there when I wake up in the morning. Something that will last beyond the timer on the PASIV. More than anything in the world, I want to build something magnificent that I can show off to my parents and let them know that everything they sacrificed so I could follow this career was worth it.

"So yes, to answer your question," she finished and her tone lightened considerably. "I would like to continue to Dream-Build, but I'm not going to let it stop me from doing something up top too."

"That's a good answer," Arthur said and he met her eyes to let her know that he meant it. "And I'm glad to hear it. I'd really like to see that cathedral in reality."

Ariadne chuckled. "Well I don't know if that will ever get built," she said with a shrug. "There's not a whole lot of calls for gigantic Gothic cathedrals anymore." She took a quick bite and then asked, "What about you? Have you ever thought about going back to your art history museum gig?"

"I think about it sometimes," he said, deliberately chewing over the words before he let them out to make sure he didn't give away more than he wanted to. "Mostly when things get too chaotic in this job and I wonder what it would be like to have an easier life. But honestly, I would miss this too much, I think. Working in a museum was a good reality for me, but being a Point Man is what I'm really suited for. Research and planning and strategy; that's my real passion. Somehow I think this job is what I'm meant to do."

Once again, she let out a stifled giggle that caught his attention. "You'd miss the impossibility," she said and it wasn't a question. "That's what it is, isn't it? Museums are all about things that are over and done. But Dreaming is where anything can still happen, and you like it."

Arthur narrowed his eyes and shot a playful, "Are you and architect or a shrink?" at her while he thought over her analysis. Was she right? Was that why he loved Dreaming so much, because the life he'd created for himself before was too limited? "I don't know about any of that," he said, once again pulling together his neutrality, "but I think at this point I'm too far in to get out of this business either way. There's a price on my head in more than one country. It's safer at this point to just keep relocating and doing what I know than to try and set up a regular life for myself somewhere."

"Is that what it's like for all of you?" she asked contemplatively. "Running and hiding and fighting for your lives in between every job?"

"For those of us who are good, yeah," he said shamelessly. "If you keep under the radar and don't get too much attention, you can usually slip out without notice and go back to reality. So long as Saito makes it back and holds up his end of the bargain and gets this squared away with COBOL for us, I could probably get by all right. But it doesn't help with the paranoia. I can't seem to stay in one place for more than a couple months without getting uneasy."

"That sounds hard," she said, not meeting his gaze.

"Now you know why we didn't want to drag you into this with us," he explained, and he suddenly realised that every semblance of appetite he'd had was now gone. He set aside his half-finished plate and propped his elbows on his knees. "You don't have to worry about that though. Once we're out of here you're free to go and never have to worry about this mess again. You can go back to a normal life."

To his surprise, she emitted a slightly humourless laugh. "That wasn't what I was thinking about," she said and her soft cocoa eyes met his determinedly. "I was thinking about what that must be like for you. No place to call home, no roots or familiarity. Can you even have relationships in a life like that?"

"Not easily," he said, sitting back and dragging a hand over his hair, noting in annoyance that it was much more casual than he liked to wear it and the natural slight curl he'd inherited from his mother had taken hold. "There are two general options: you can either get involved with someone who understands that you're travelling a lot and is willing to make the wait. I've known a couple people who've done that, with varying degrees of success. Or you can get involved with a teammate, and try to keep the blend of reality and Dreams from destroying your relationship from the inside."

"Like Cobb and Mal."

The question was rhetorical but he nodded anyway. "Things don't usually get that bad, but it depends on the couple," he said. "Things like love and commitments are usually nothing more than a weakness in this business. Like a paradox that you can't quite get a handle on. It could lash out and throw you off without you ever seeing it coming. It takes a lot more work than most people are willing to devote to making a relationship work when you aren't even sure whether it's real half the time."

"Do you have a girl waiting for you out there somewhere?" Ariadne said it casually enough, but he didn't miss the burning interest in her eyes before she hastily looked down at the food she hadn't touched in minutes.

"No," he said simply. Her eyes immediately flickered up again. "I tried once, but it didn't end well." He cleared his throat before those memories and feelings could crop up, and his smirk was light when he met her gaze. "How did this turn from me asking you questions to you interrogating me about my lifestyle?"

She flushed slightly but leaned back in the sofa cushions with a delighted smile. "Guess I'm just smarter than you," she said in a cavalier tone. "That must suck for you."

He couldn't stop the amused laugh that escaped him. "You're pretty sure of yourself there," he commented casually. He stood up and carried the dishes into the kitchen, scraping the remaining food into the bin and then piling them into the sink. He'd deal with them later. After putting away the remaining food cartons, he went back to the sofa where Ariadne was watching him with the same sort of passive curiosity usually used to regard an interesting person on the bus or the pavement. "Can I help you?" he asked and cocked an eyebrow at her blatant examination.

"Nope," she said, popping the 'p' childishly. She stood and smoothed out her camisole, and then faced him. "I think I'm going to go lay down for a couple hours. Thanks for dinner."

"Thanks for the Spanish Inquisition," he replied calmly.

She giggled unashamedly. "So I'm curious. Sue me," she said with a nonchalant shrug. She took a step closer and Arthur had to stop himself from reflexively stepping back. It wouldn't do for her to know how much her nearness affected him. "Well goodnight," she said.

He felt her little hand curl around his again and he waited patiently for the gentle squeeze she'd afford it before turning and leaving. Instead he was shocked when she stood on her toes and pressed her lips against his cheek. It was the softest of contacts, hardly more than a butterfly's brush against his skin, but it sent a jolt of electricity through him that he had to fight not to react to. When she dropped back down to her heels, she seemed to regard his face for a split second before smiling and then slipping away into the bedroom.

"Goodnight," he added at the last second, just as her figure was vanishing behind the doorframe. He waited until he was sure she was out of earshot before he dropped down onto the sofa with a heavy sigh.

How much longer could he hold out? Normally he would've been fine, but she seemed to purposely be trying to mess with his head. It was like she was testing him, seeing how far she could push him before he'd break. Did she know the power she had over him?

No, he couldn't let this happen. He had lost one woman in his life because of the complexity of a life of Dream-Sharing, and he wasn't going to watch it ruin things again. Not with her. She was far too important for him to let something happen to her. The Architect meant more to him than he could ever consciously acknowledge, and he wouldn't watch this life strip away all of the naivety and innocence that made her beautiful to him.

He had to put a stop to this.

Stretching out across the cushions, he leaned his head back into one of the plush pillows and closed his eyes. He would fix this tomorrow. For tonight, and just this one last night, he would lose himself in the thoughts of what could have been.


	4. Day Four

Day 4

Arthur couldn't relax. He had been trying for hours, ever since Ariadne had disappeared into the bedroom with a quick kiss on the cheek, but without any luck. For a while he had laid there and let his mind wander, playing out scenarios and visions he wouldn't stray near in reality. The problem was that he had expected those to carry him off to sleep. Instead he had tossed fitfully for hours on end as his mind raced with no end in sight.

Grunting, he dug his arm out from beneath the blanket to read his watch-face in the dim glow from the kitchen appliances. It was only half-two. He punched the throw pillow beneath his head and flipped over onto his other side, trying to will his brain to turn off for a bit. It wasn't that he needed the rest – not in a Dream anyway – but he was tired of listening to the war raging in his mind. His attraction to the Architect was battling it out with his rational side that wanted her away from this life, and the worst part was that the latter wasn't putting up as good a fight as he had hoped.

After another half an hour of pitching restlessly, he shoved off the blanket and sat up. He put on his jeans – just in case she woke up and came in – and after tucking the handgun back into his waistband for safety, he went over to the kitchen. The dinner dishes were sitting in the sink and he threw himself into the menial task just to give his mind something to focus on besides the young woman sleeping in the next room. He dragged the chore out as long as he could and then leaned against the counter.

What else could he do to pass the time? He had already finished his book early on in the day. He supposed he could read it again, but that wouldn't really help him keep his brain on track. There only seemed to be a small loop of films playing on the television over and over, and the classical station he'd been listening to had strongly favoured Italian and German opera ballads, as opposed to the symphonies he preferred.

The lack of work and research to do was starting to wear on him. This was the longest space of free time that he'd ever spent in a dream before. Usually the jobs would stretch out across all of the allotted time, or they would wind up dying before it was over. Either way, the notion of hiding out in a mark's Dreams for an entire week was something that he'd never really anticipated having to do before. He was good with preparing and doing, but this waiting was murder. The stagnancy was playing havoc with his mind, bringing up long-buried memories and insecurities that he didn't want to deal with again, and he needed some form of forward motion.

Arthur folded his arms over his chest and cast his eyes around the room, searching for something – anything – to keep himself entertained. After flitting around ceaselessly for a minute, they finally landed on a small pad of paper resting on the window seat. Doubt crept up in him immediately. Those were Ariadne's sketches, and looking at them was an invasion of privacy. His fingers twitched with curiosity. Surely she wouldn't mind. She had let him look at them over her shoulder earlier, so there couldn't be any harm in getting a better look.

Before he could lose his nerve, Arthur moved over to the window bench and snatched up the little pad of paper. He took a steadying breath before flipping open the cover. On the first page was a very simple sketch, a decorated archway much like the _Arc de Triomphe _but with a slightly modern flare to the curves and angles. Intrigued, he turned the page. The next sketch was so blurred by eraser smudges that it was impossible to make out anything more than the basic shape of the building. He flipped through several more drawings of elaborately detailed skyscrapers and contemporary buildings in unusual shapes. Each one was more beautiful and fascinating than the last, despite the occasional irritated scribble or eraser smear that distorted the pictures.

He turned another page and abruptly froze. That wasn't a building... The sketch that covered this page was of a person, and there was no question of just who that person was. Arthur stared down at the drawing of himself, the figure stretched out lazily across the sofa with an opened book resting on his stomach. Even with as shocked as he was, he couldn't help but admire the art. There was such an attention to detail – from the shape of his jaw-line to the shadowing in the folds of his shirt – that it was almost disconcerting to see.

Locking his jaw, Arthur snapped the pad closed and dropped it onto the seat. He couldn't bring himself to touch it any longer. There was more to that sketch than just a piece of artwork. As his eyes had swept along the carefully calculated lines he had felt the devotion and attentiveness that her hand had put into the task. There was – _affection_ in that drawing.

He stood and started to pace a line across the opposite end of the room, his heart racing. This wasn't good. Things were complicated enough when it was all simple flirting and teasing. The possibility that she felt the same fondness for him that he had for her was dangerous. His own emotions he would learn to control – he'd had experience in that matter and he knew which mistakes to avoid this time around. But her? No, he couldn't let this continue. He needed to do something before this got out of hand.

The question was what could he do? How could he handle this situation without shattering her? He couldn't just outright tell her to stay away from him. No, he couldn't do that as much for his own sake as for the safety of her feelings. He couldn't imagine her not being in his life, even in the small amount that work allotted them. But he couldn't tell her that he'd seen the drawing, because then she'd know that he had been snooping in her things.

Arthur groaned and shoved a hand through his hair, which was curling in strange ways on his head now that it was free of his meticulous styling. How had he gotten himself into this? He had been doing perfectly fine for years now, ever since things had ended in Greece, and then this one woman strode in and tore apart all of the carefully constructed barriers he had built up. He would hate her for it if he didn't care so much about her.

For another solid hour, he paced a steady pattern in the open area of the living room, running through scenarios in his head. He played out each possible idea, trying to envision different ways to tackle this problem without leading to a total catastrophe. None of them worked; or at least he didn't think any of them would. Ariadne had always been a bit of a wildcard, and pretending he could predict her reactions was a foolish lie. Cobb, he understood. Even Eames behaved in typical patterns that he could generally predict. But Ariadne? She was the very definition of capricious.

A soft noise made Arthur spin around, drawing his gun and clicking off the safety in one practised movement. Staring down the barrel he found himself facing Ariadne, whose eyes were wide as she carefully raised her hands to her sides. "It's just me," she said gently.

"Sorry," Arthur replied. He flicked the safety back on and tucked the gun back into his jeans, feeling embarrassed. "My mind was elsewhere."

"Are you getting paranoid too?" she asked knowingly with a ghost of a smile.

"Me?" he replied, forcing the humour. At her straightforward gaze he chuckled and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "I've never spent so long in a dream before," he admitted. "It's starting to get to me."

"I could hear you pacing," she said. She walked in and sat down on the sofa, drawing her knees up to her chest. "That's why I came out. Are you okay?"

"Restless," he answered honestly. He smoothed down his tee-shirt, not that it did any good on the well-worn wrinkles in the fabric. "In Dreams, the goal is to get in, get the job done, and get out. I don't like all of this waiting. It's even worse with not knowing for sure if the job even worked." He cast a questioning glance at her but she shrugged.

"I don't know either," she confessed. "I was down in Limbo while Eames was supposed to be getting Fischer into the vault. I only woke up in just enough time to ride the Kick up." Arthur couldn't stop himself from instinctively frowning again at the thought of the young Architect being lost in Limbo. She apparently caught the look on his face because she added, "I'm fine, you know. I knew what I was doing."

"Cobb didn't," he rebutted pointedly. "He's unstable. It's dangerous enough to go into Limbo, but to go there into a world controlled by the mind of a man who is half-unhinged. That's madness." He sighed and tugged a hand through his hair impatiently again. "Don't get me wrong; I respect Cobb. He's a talented Architect and Extractor, and he's the closest friend I have anymore. But I've been caught on the wrong side of his mind before. It's not a good place to be."

"Mal stabbed me on my first day of Dreaming," she reminded him. "I've been there too."

"She blew off my kneecap," Arthur said, smirking slightly at having bested her. Even as his said it, his knee panged with the memory of the gunshot. "I've gotten a lot of injuries in my life, both real and Dream, but that was definitely one of the least pleasant."

"Well I was fine down there," she continued once she'd gotten the sympathetic grimace off her face. "She didn't come near me, although she did stab Cobb. And I shot her."

Arthur's eyes widened and he stared at her thoughtfully. "I think perhaps you should clue me in on what exactly happened down there," he said, not completely able to hide his curiosity. "After all, it's only fair after I got stuck carting around everyone's bodies in zero gravity."

The twinkle in Ariadne's eyes was playful and for a minute he thought she would refuse, but then she nodded and she told him everything. She told him about the snowy fortress, and the way they'd split up to get Fischer into the hospital; the way they had to use the secret airways to get in, and the avalanche the Kick had caused; Mal dropping in and shooting Fischer, and Cobb shooting Mal. And then finally she told him about her plan to go into Limbo and find Fischer.

Her expression darkened just a little as she talked about the ruins of skyscrapers that were collapsing all around them, and the lane of houses built from Cobb's memories. She described the way Cobb's house was built onto the top of a modern glass and steel building, and how Mal had been waiting for them in the kitchen. How Cobb had told her the story of his first Inception, and how it had been his idea that caused Mal to kill herself. All of it, leading up to a confrontation in which Cobb was stabbed, Mal was shot, and Fischer was kicked off the top of the building.

"I can't believe it," Arthur said when she'd finished. "He had told me he'd performed Inception before and I had always suspected that it was on Mal, but this..." He shook his head as all of his worst fears about his partner were confirmed. Those were thoughts for another time. "What about you? How did you get out?"

"I jumped," she said. "The Kick caught me in mid-air and I woke up in the hospital just before it collapsed. The next thing I really remember, I was in the van in the water."

Arthur smiled grimly. "There's something fascinating about dying that way," he said thoughtfully. "I've died a hundred different deaths in this business, but none of them sets off your mind quite like free-falling."

"How many times have you died?" Ariadne asked curiously.

"I lost count," Arthur said and shrugged. "It happened a few times when I first started working in Dream-Sharing, because I was inexperienced and made stupid mistakes. After a while I got better at it, until Mal died. Once she started cropping up in Dreams, she got really good at messing things up, really fast. Things like alerting Sub-Security, or selling us out to the mark." He closed his eyes for a second, a thousand different deaths playing through his mind, and then hastily shook them away. "But it doesn't matter. After a while you get used to it, and it turns back into just a normal wake-up."

"That's–" Ariadne pursed her lips, apparently trying to find the right word, and then settled on, "morbid."

He chuckled and nodded, not debating that fact with her. "Isn't everything about this business?" he countered lightly. "We make a living off of breaking into people's minds, unearthing their deepest secrets and sharing them with their enemies. It's not exactly the sort of job that leaves you with a clear conscience."

"How did you get into this?" The abrupt question caught Arthur by surprise and he looked up from studying the contrast of his bare feet on the thick carpet. "I mean, I got recruited by Cobb because I'm an architect. But you were an Art History student. How did you become a Point Man?"

"Mal recruited me," he said. "After trying to Extract from me, that is."

"Come again?" Ariadne cut in, her eyes widening in confusion. He smiled at the flash of almost child-like innocence that shone on her face at that moment. Just more proof as to why she deserved a life outside of this world, where she wouldn't become jaded the way they all did eventually. "I think you had better elaborate," she continued pointedly. "This sounds like an interesting story."

"Not particularly," Arthur replied. He crossed the room and sank down onto the opposite end of the sofa, threading his hands together and contemplating his interlaced fingers. "I met Mal at a lecture on campus, my freshman year at university; a guest speaker was talking about the work of M. C. Esher."

"The paradox guy?" she asked, and he nodded.

"I was there for the art aspect," he went on, "and although I didn't know it, she was there with Professor Miles to learn about the possibilities of using Esher's designs in Dreamscapes. They'd just started to really explore Dream-Sharing as a psychological method then. Miles was the leading expert on using Dreams to get into a person's mind and find out what needed to be fixed. Mal and I hit it off at the lecture and wound up going out for coffee. She told me about being a psychiatrist, and her work in interpreting dreams – although she obviously didn't tell me about the PASIV and things like that – and I told her about working at the museum."

"You dated Cobb's wife?"

Arthur laughed. "It was just coffee. And to be fair, that was before she'd met Cobb. We had a good chat, and then exchanged emails addresses and went our own ways. I didn't see her again for three years." He paused, his brow furrowing as he considered how to explain the next part. "I'd been promoted through the ranks at the museum, and by that time I was working directly beneath the curator, an ambitious and passionate man named Dr. McMillan. The University benefactors suspected him of running shady deals off the books, smuggling art in and out on the black market, but they could never get any solid proof on him. They had heard whispers of using Dream-Sharing to dig secrets out of peoples' minds, and so they hired Mal to get answers for them.

"Well getting to the curator was difficult, but she and I were still friends and she knew I worked closely with him. She thought that if anyone might know about his secret tradings, it would be me. So she came to Cambridge on the pretence of a friendly visit. I had her over for coffee, and she slipped a sedative in my drink. When I went under, she hooked me up and she tried to Extract the proof from me."

"Did you know about what he was doing?" Ariadne asked pensively, her attention rapt.

"I suspected," he admitted. "I had noticed some strange things going on, but I never had enough to go to the authorities about it. When Mal broke into my mind, she found my notepad, where I'd kept all of the evidence and theories that I'd compiled over the months. Like I said before, research and collecting information has always been my strong point."

"So what happened?" she pressed eagerly.

"I realised it was dream, and the whole thing collapsed," he answered, and she actually gasped aloud in surprise. "Dream-Sharing was still in its early stages then, and Mal slipped up. I wasn't happy about things when I woke up, I'll tell you that. Finding out that you've been Extracted – knowing that someone's been looking around inside of your mind and seeing all of your secrets – it's not a pleasant experience.

"I was furious with Mal for a while after that. She tried to explain it all to me that night, but I wasn't really in the mood to listen. A few days later though I took all of the information I had to the University board and it was enough to get a real search going. A week after that Mal came to me and she told me all about Dream-Sharing, and the work that she and Professor Miles were doing. She had been impressed by my research abilities and my memory for detail, and she offered me a job.

"At first I was only there because I was curious," he admitted, fidgeting with his watch. "She said Miles could teach me how to protect my mind, so I'd be safe in case anything like that ever happened again. But a week turned into a month, and then suddenly I was helping them to plan out more Extractions for wealthy clients. I got hooked, and I've been doing it ever since."

"That's where you met Cobb?" she asked.

"He was Miles' favourite student, something of a protégé, really," Arthur agreed. _Apparently I approve of Miles' taste in protégés, considering how easily I get close to them, _he thought to himself with a twist of discomfort. "When he and Mal met it was probably the closest approximation of love at first sight that's ever existed. Miles brought him on to help design the Dreamscapes and taught us all how to properly navigate a person's mind without causing damage. Cobb and I became fast friends, and when Miles went back to his teaching full-time, the three of us struck out on our own and set up a name for ourselves in the Extracting business. The rest of it is history, as they say."

"Wow." Ariadne lapsed into thoughtful silence, her fingers worrying the hem of her camisole as she stared into the distance. Arthur hesitated, masking his uncertainty as he waited for her reaction. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't stop himself from caring what she thought. "I thought you said it wasn't an interesting story?"

Arthur chuckled, relieved by the lack of judgement in her voice. "Not compared to some," he said and shrugged.

"Well it's more exciting than how I got the job," she said simply.

Her eyes flicked passed him to the window and he followed her gaze to the steel grey sky that was visible behind the towering buildings. "Too bad we can't watch the sun come up," he said with a sort of detached mournfulness. "Bet it would look great over the city."

Ariadne let out a strange noise and he looked at her in alarm, but she wasn't exactly focusing on him. Suddenly she bolted to her feet. "Grab your jacket," she insisted.

"What?" he said in confusion as she bolted over to the wall and grabbed her jacket from the hook by the door. She didn't respond, instead just picked up his jacket as well as the umbrella resting on the floor, and came back to him.

"C'mon," she said. He accepted the jacket she thrust into his arms, and in the next second she'd taken his hand and started pulling him toward the door.

"We can't leave the building," he said warningly. "We shouldn't be seen around too much."

"We're not leaving," she countered over her shoulder, even as she dragged him behind her into the elevator. Arthur asked her again where they were going, but she ignored him as the elevator took them upward. On the top floor she seized his hand again and tugged him down the hall until she reached a door marked 'Roof.' She shoved her way through it and at the top of the flight of stairs she opened the umbrella before stepping outside.

"What are you doing?" he asked in shock. He hastily put his jacket on and raced out to stand beside her under the shelter of the little black umbrella, his bare feet cold in the puddles of rainwater that had collected on the concrete.

"Watching the sunrise," she answered with a bright grin.

Arthur looked around and took in their surroundings. The building towered as high as many of the others, giving them a much wider and grander view of the city. From here he could see all the way to the river, a murky grey line along the horizon. The rain was still falling around them, but the clouds were clearer and the differences in their colours were more visible at this height.

"It's just about to come up," she announced, pointing away to the east. The clouds there had shifted from a dark, charcoal grey into a softer, silvery colour. Arthur watched with anticipation as the bleaching spread, changing the colours in a gradual arc. The sun reached a thin part of the cloud cover and several beams of pure white light shot through the darkness, their clear beams falling on the water and the city, illuminating it like the beam of a spotlight.

"I was right," he vowed assuredly. Ariadne hummed curiously and looked up at him, and he met her gaze with a smile. "The sunrise looks great over your city."

. . . . .

"Arthur, we should go out to dinner."

Arthur blinked and looked up from his notepad, his forehead furrowed in confusion. The day had been mostly silent since their trip up to the rooftop that morning. After they'd gotten back and had a quick breakfast of coffee and toast, they'd gone about their own business. Ariadne had stolen his discarded book and buried herself in its pages. On the sofa, Arthur had picked up one of the loose paper pads next to the phone and was using it to write down every detail of the job that he could remember. It wouldn't do him any good in the long run – it would stay down here when they woke up – but it made him feel like he was at least doing something, and that helped a little.

"Come again?" he asked.

"You heard me," she replied with a slight smile. "We've been locked up here for days. We should get out and stretch our legs."

"We went out this morning," he pointed out.

Ariadne snorted and rolled her eyes. "We went to the roof," she said dryly. "Hardly a real walk."

"We're not supposed to leave the building, remember?" he said. "There are Projections all over out there that will kill us if we get caught."

"Just across the street," she pressed hopefully. "We can go to that same restaurant we went to the other night. Please, Arthur. I just want to get out of this room for a bit before I go crazy and start running up and down the halls naked or something."

Arthur held back a smile at that mental image, but he could tell that he was losing this battle. There wasn't much he could refuse her, especially when she was looking at him so eagerly. He kept his expression schooled for a minute, secretly enjoying the way she was so entirely focused on him. "Alright," he conceded. Her eyes brightened and he could see the flecks of gold in them. "But remember, we're still keeping a low profile."

"I know," she said a bit impatiently, even as she was already darting for their jackets. Arthur let himself smile while her back was turned. Something about her energy was infectious. She barely gave him enough time to put his jacket and shoes on before she had threaded her arm through his and pulled him toward the door. It wasn't until they had gotten down to the lobby doors that he realised she'd dragged him out before he could grab the umbrella. They had to pull their jackets up over their heads as they dashed across the street to the restaurant.

The crowd there seemed slightly classier than the last time and Arthur and Ariadne stood out even more than usual in their wrinkled days-old clothes. As they passed one table Arthur distinctly heard a man lean toward his friends and murmur, "Newlyweds." As the group of businessmen and their wives all chuckled, Arthur's ears went pink.

Once they were seated at a table in the back corner, Arthur ordered a bottle of expensive wine. Ariadne gave him a strange look as the waiter walked away. "How did you go from saying we shouldn't come to buying the priciest bottle on the menu?"

"Well I still say we shouldn't have come out, but since we're here, we may as well enjoy ourselves," he said simply. "Besides, everyone apparently thinks we're on our honeymoon, and that sounds like a time for extravagance." A flush blossomed on her cheeks at that and he swallowed hard, determinedly resisting the urge to reach over and tuck away the strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. If this Dream didn't end soon he'd wind up doing something he would regret.

"Are you intentionally being so enigmatic?" she asked with a hint of amusement beneath the exasperation.

"Yes," he agreed without hesitation. The corner of his lips quirked at her smile. "I make my living in secrets. You can't expect me to be too forthcoming."

"I thought you might be with me," she said. "We're teammates. Sort of like partners right now." She shot him a simpering look and added, "I mean, this is our honeymoon after all."

Arthur bit back a laugh. "To be fair, if this were our honeymoon you should probably know all of these things about me already."

Ariadne didn't miss a beat. "How can I when you're so enigmatic?" He couldn't stop his smile, although he was saved answering by the arrival of the waiter with the wine. The older man poured their glasses, took their orders, and left. The moment he was out of earshot, Ariadne said, "So how about it, Arthur? I've been honest with you."

"All right, ask your questions, but I can't promise I'll answer all of them," he said, and then busied himself with his glass of pinot noir. This woman would be the death of him at this rate.

"So... Arthur _Junior_?"

Arthur groaned softly. "Of course you would go straight there," he muttered.

"Is it off-limits?" she asked. "I was just curious. You didn't sound too fond of your father when you mentioned him before."

"I would have had to know him to be fond of him," he replied. He could feel Ariadne's stare as he gazed into the depths of the wineglass. "He took off when I was young and I never heard from him again."

Ariadne set her hand on his gently. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Arthur said with a small shrug, although he didn't pull his hand away from hers. "We were better off without him."

She seemed to sense his need to change the topic because she abruptly asked, "So, you've done a lot of travelling. What's your favourite city so far?"

"I was in Barcelona just last year, it was fascinating," he said, taking up the thread gratefully. "There was art everywhere; built into the walls and tiled into the walks. It was beautiful. Paris is a very close second though. After all, it's the art and cultural heart of Europe."

That set them off into a long conversation about cities that carried them through the first half of the wine bottle and into the arrival of their dinner. Gradually it morphed into Arthur telling stories of some of his more exciting extraction jobs, although in a quieter tone and vague details in case they were overheard.

"...so needless to say, I try to avoid New Delhi at all costs," he finished. Ariadne's giggle rang out and he gazed at her appreciatively. A combination of the wine and laughter had dyed her cheeks a bright, rosy colour. He blamed his sudden, overwhelming desire to kiss her on the alcohol. It may not work exactly the same in a Dreamscape, but it still muddled the senses and they couldn't afford to do something stupid here. Kissing her fell into that category, although another glass or two of the pricey wine might change that if he wasn't careful.

"Do you know which city I'm visiting next?" she said, and the question must have been rhetorical because she continued without pausing. "Rome. I was supposed to go this fall on an architecture study project, but it was full. Have you been?"

"Once or twice," he said, turning his gaze down to his plate and prodding at the remains of his pâté. A long buried memory surfaced before he could stop it.

_Six-year-old Griffin leaned his head back, glancing up from the history book Arthur had brought home from school. "Artie, can we go to Rome someday? I wanna see the gladi-gators!"_

_Arthur laughed, finishing the sentence on his homework assignment, and then ruffled the little boy's shaggy dark hair. "They're called gladiators, Grif. But yeah, we'll go to Rome someday. I promise."_

Shaking his head, he forced on a tone of nonchalance and said, "Last time was a really dangerous job. Our mark was a member of the Swiss Guard. If you ever want to see lethal Sub-Security, that is the place to go."

"Arthur, are you okay?" Her voice was soft and imploring, and when he glanced up to meet her doe-eyed gaze he felt it all rushing up inside of him. He wanted nothing more than to tell her everything, unload all of his secrets on her. He very nearly did before he remembered where they were.

"I'm fine," he said. At her slight frown he glanced significantly at the nearby Projections and she seemed to catch his meaning because she nodded subtly. "So," he said, "an architecture study in Rome? That sounds exciting."


	5. Day Five

AN: Wow, a chapter that involves something more than just chatting in the hotel room! I thought I'd never get to this point. We're over the halfway point now. This chapter's also significantly longer too (fourteen pages in Micro Word) so hopefully that makes up for my being so slow.

* * *

><p><span>Day 5<span>

They stayed late at the restaurant, talking about architecture and art until the staff gave them sour looks to chase them out so they could close for the night. After they had jogged back to the hotel, Arthur excused himself to the shower, needing a break from Ariadne's ever-present smile to collect his wits. It was cowardly of him, but he half-hoped that by the time he got out she would be asleep. If he didn't get a few hours of peace to gather himself, he was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to stop himself from telling her everything that he'd never willingly talked about to anyone.

Which was why he had to swallow a groan when he came out of the bathroom to find her sitting on the couch, doodling idly on a pad of paper. She looked up expectantly as he walked out and he pretended not to notice when she watched him towel off his hair a bit more intently than necessary. Despite his resolution not to lead her on, he couldn't help the small satisfied smirk.

"Feeling better?" she asked as he tossed the towel back into the bathroom. "You seemed a bit distracted during dinner."

"I suppose it was too much to hope you'd forget," he said, dropping onto the other end of the sofa. The three feet between them didn't feel like nearly enough space.

Ariadne grinned playfully. "You should know me better than that by now." She set aside her notepad and turned to face him directly. "So why don't you like Rome?"

Arthur leaned back in the cushion, dragging a hand through his tangled damp hair. "A long time ago I promised someone I would take them to Rome, but I never got the chance."

"Girlfriend?" she asked gently, if not a bit jealously.

"Brother," he admitted, unable to meet her gaze. She gave a nearly imperceptible gasp. "My younger brother, Griffin."

"I thought you said–" she trailed off, comprehension dawning on her features. "What happened?"

"He was hit by a car," he said. It was painful to talk about, but now that he'd started he couldn't seem to stop. "He was only seven. He ran out to meet me when I was coming home and he didn't see the car. I tried to get him out of the way but I wasn't fast enough." He stopped to clear his throat, which was feeling suddenly very tight, and rubbed the collarbone that had been broken in the car accident twenty years ago.

Ariadne slid across the sofa and leaned into his side. Her presence, casual as it was, was oddly comforting. "He was the best kid though. Always happy, always asking questions about everything. He had a hard time reading, his teachers called him learning disabled, but he was smart. Had a memory like you wouldn't believe."

"Like his big brother?" Ariadne asked.

Arthur laughed. "Better. He would listen to me read my homework aloud and then could recite most of it back to me. And he was five years younger than me. He would've been fantastic, I can't imagine what he could've done as an adult."

"And he wanted to go to Rome?"

"He wanted to see the gladiators," he said with a smile. "Although he always called them gladi-gators. He saw them in one of my textbooks and loved them. I remember he made this gladiator armour from some old cardboard boxes, and he used to wear it around the neighbourhood. He'd pretend Mrs. Iscovich's cats were lions and he would duel with them."

"Were you a gladi-gator too?" Ariadne lifted her head from his shoulder to grin impishly at him. "I bet you were."

"Sometimes, yeah," he agreed. "Although I was in school by that time so a lot of the time I was the emperor so I could do homework while he played. That or I was an injured comrade he was protecting from the lions. He didn't really seem to care how much I really participated so long as I was there."

"I'll bet you were a great big brother," she said sincerely.

Arthur swallowed hard around the lump that had risen in his throat again. "Well someone had to take care of him," he said dismissively. "Our father left just after he was born, and Mum worked two jobs to support us. She still made time for him when she got home though, every night. She'd just sit and listen to him talk about every little thing he'd done that day, no matter how tired she was."

"She sounds amazing," Ariadne said.

"The best," he said. "She was always determined to get us out of that slum. She took on a third job to get me into a nice private high school. It helped me get the scholarship that put me through college. She didn't really understand why I quit school for this job, since I obviously couldn't tell her everything, but the money helped. I got her into a better neighbourhood and she doesn't have to work anymore. The last time I talked to her she had just married this nice guy she met at the market."

"Really? When was that?"

"Almost three years ago now," he responded.

Ariadne looked up in alarm. "Three years? You haven't talked to your mom in three years?"

"I haven't been able to," he explained. "We make enemies in this line of work, and it wouldn't be the first time they used someone I cared about to get revenge on me. I couldn't put my mom at risk like that. The only time I could see her were when I knew I was off the radar and I could lay low for a while. I was actually going to see her when Cobb took this job."

"Oh." He could see the thoughts churning in her head and knew exactly what she was realising; that if she stayed in the job that would become her life too. Only seeing family on occasion and always wondering if you were putting them in danger. She seemed to shake herself out of it and she added, "Well maybe you can go see her when this job's over."

"Yeah, maybe," he agreed, but his stomach twisted with anxiety. If Saito didn't come out of Limbo then COBOL would still have a price on his head. He couldn't have any contact with his mother so long as COBOL still wanted him. He also couldn't risk being seen with Ariadne in the real world. If COBOL went after her because of him, he would never forgive himself.

She leaned her head more comfortably into his shoulder and he steeled himself. It didn't matter how good it felt, or how she had managed to carve her way through his walls with seemingly no effort. It didn't matter that even after four days in a Dreamscape, she somehow still smelled like honeysuckle and vanilla. It didn't even matter that he wanted nothing more in that moment than to kiss her senseless. None of those things mattered because the reality was that it was too dangerous to be together.

"Ari, you know that we can't–"

Ariadne cut him off by groaning loudly. "Shh, I'm sleeping."

Arthur chuckled and glanced down at her. She had nestled her head against his shoulder and wedged herself up right next to him. Her eyes were closed. "You're sleeping?" he repeated.

"Yes," she replied blearily. "So shh. You can be enigmatic in the morning."

He laughed outright at that, but a few seconds of manoeuvring later he was positive she was not about to move and let him up. Rolling his eyes, he settled back in the cushions. As soon as he'd stopped shifting around, it only took a couple of minutes before she was fast asleep against his side.

Arthur regarded her sleeping face thoughtfully. There she was, the girl with the naivety and innocence and trust. He wanted to keep her that sweet and beautiful forever. A loose tendril of brown hair escaped and he tucked it behind her ear deftly, lingering longer than he should in the contact. This was wrong... So wrong...

Ariadne sighed sleepily and nuzzled his shoulder, and his resolve fled. He moved his arm around her shoulders, letting her curl more comfortably into him, and smiled. To hell with reality. He'd deal with that when they got back there. For now, one more night of dreaming wouldn't kill him.

. . . . .

Ariadne woke extremely reluctantly. She was warm and comfortable and more than content to stay there for several more hours at least. She kept her eyes firmly closed but it did nothing to stop her mind from whirring into consciousness. Her thoughts immediately went to Arthur.

The man in question was still fast asleep, breathing deeply. His head was resting on top of hers and she could feel his warm breath tickling the back of her neck when he exhaled. At some point during the night his arm had slipped from her shoulders to her waist, and his other hand was on her knee where she'd hooked it over his legs. It was the sort of intimate cuddling she hadn't done since her first boyfriend in high school, only it felt so much more comfortable. It was – blissful.

Everything about the night before was still playing through her head and she tried to make sense of it. A night out with Arthur lent a whole new meaning to the term 'mixed signals.' He spent most of the time wearing his typical Point Man expression, but then every once in a while he would look at her with such longing and intensity that it was physically staggering. He would go from keeping her at arm's length to opening up about a past she could tell he didn't make a habit of talking about. And then after trying to tell her how they couldn't be together, he had pulled her into his arms and slept through the night. It was clear he was attracted to her, so what was stopping him?

Perhaps it was something to do with his past. What he'd told her last night had connected some of the loose ends from before, explaining how he had gone from a life in the Pennsylvania slums to studying graduate work at Cambridge. It was the sort of background that she never would've expected for the stoic, suited Arthur, but she couldn't help but think it explained some things about him as well. Things like his cynicism, determined independence, defensiveness, short temper, and especially his lack of qualms over the general lawlessness of their job.

Was that why he didn't want to get close to her? He obviously hadn't had very many meaningful relationships in his life. The only people it sounded like he had any real connection with were his mother, whom he hadn't spoken to in years, and Cobb, who he regarded with equal parts respect and distrust. No, she was going to change that. Her resolution to figure out Arthur had evolved, and now learning about him wasn't her main concern. She wanted to give him someone to really trust. Someone who knew all of the truths of his life that he couldn't tell anyone else. She would be that person for him, if she could just get him to believe her...

To start with, she needed to keep this morning from being awkward. He had opened up so much that night, probably partly to do with the delicious wine that had caused the faint pounding between her temples that she knew was still so much less than it would've been outside of a Dreamscape. She was sure he would wake up feeling embarrassed and try to retreat back into himself. So she just had to make him see there was nothing to be ashamed of.

Even though she really just wanted to stay there and she hated herself for doing it, she carefully started to extract herself from Arthur's side. It was difficult to do without waking him, making her realise just how closely they'd actually wrapped around each other through the night. She had barely moved her head from beneath his when Arthur suddenly straightened up, looking around alertly.

"Sorry," she said as he got his bearings and relaxed again. "I was trying not to wake you."

"I'm a light sleeper," he replied and rubbed his eyes. She smirked at the way his hair stuck up in the back, and combined with his calm, sleepy expression he looked years younger.

It seemed to be that moment when he realised his arm was still around her waist and that she was sitting about a quarter of the way in his lap. He cleared his throat and moved his arm onto the back of the couch. From so close she could actually feel the heat coming from the red that had climbed his neck. So much for things not being awkward.

To give him some space, she stood up and said, "I was just getting up to make some coffee. Do you want some?"

"Yes, please," Arthur said gratefully. "Maybe it will help this headache. How are you feeling? You drank even more than I did."

"Not too bad," she said over her shoulder as she set up the coffee maker. "Just a little headache, nothing a coffee and a glass of water won't fix. I didn't know you could get a hangover in Dreams."

Arthur chuckled. "Neither did I. Every time I've ever drank that much in a Dream I wound up not surviving until the morning after. That's why I generally don't drink on the job."

"So why did you last night?" she asked curiously. It seemed a bad time to break his own rules, since death here didn't just mean the end of the job.

"It was a special occasion," he said, like it was obvious. She turned in confusion to see that the dimples had appeared at the corners of his mouth. "It's our honeymoon."

Ariadne laughed and all of the tension suddenly dissipated from the room. There was still something stiff in the set of his shoulders, and he was fidgeting his fingers distractedly, but when he returned her smile it was genuine. She poured the cups of fresh coffee and then took a seat beside him on the sofa. He accepted the mug with a murmured thanks, and that's when she noticed what he'd been toying with.

"Your dice," she said.

"Die," he corrected instinctively and then grimaced. "Sorry, force of habit." He tipped it over in his palm. "Definitely still a Dream."

"Where'd you get it?" she asked curiously. "Or would my knowing stop it from working right?"

"I made this one," he said and tucked it into his pocket. "I had one like it when I was a kid, only that one was white. I used it to beat other kids from school at dice games. Their allowance money bought a lot of candy for Griffin and I."

Ariadne laughed, regarding him in a new light. "You must've been a hellion child," she said. "I'll bet all of your teachers hated you."

"Like they had any idea," he said sarcastically. "I was clever and sneaky. They never even knew there was anything going on."

"Remind me never to go to Vegas with you," she said in amusement. "I don't want to get caught up in it when you go all Ocean's Eleven on the place."

Arthur snorted into his coffee. "That's implying I would get caught."

"Now look who's being overly confident," she teased. He shrugged one shoulder unconcernedly, his mouth preoccupied with his coffee. "So, what should we do for breakfast today?"

"Don't you mean lunch?" he responded and glanced significantly at the clock hanging on the wall in the kitchen. Ariadne followed his gaze and was startled to see that it was already half-two in the afternoon. They'd slept for over twelve hours.

"Wow, okay, lunch then," she amended. "How about... Oh, we should try that bistro downstairs." Arthur's expression was reluctant, so when he opened his mouth to argue she barrelled on, "It's inside the hotel, so it's technically still in the safe zone, right? And don't deli sandwiches and fresh pastries sound delicious? And real coffee not brewed in our room?"

Arthur rolled his eyes even as he smiled. "You are a nuisance," he informed her and then polished off the last of his drink. "Fine, but that means we're having dinner in the room. One outing a day is more than enough."

"Yes, sir," she said and mockingly saluted him. "Just let me get cleaned up. I really need to shower first." Smiling triumphantly, she took their empty mugs to the kitchen sink and then slipped into the bathroom. As she stripped down and climbed under the warm spray, she thought about how the morning had gone so far. It was obvious Arthur was still self-conscious about opening up to her, but he hadn't pushed her away. She was going to consider that progress.

. . . . .

While Ariadne was in the shower, Arthur did his best to smooth out his own appearance. A little water and a lot of combing with his fingers got his hair to lie mostly flat, but there wasn't much to be done for the wrinkled state of his clothes. The dress shirt was less rumpled than the white tee-shirt beneath, but only just. If they were going to continue going out in public – which he felt sure they would so long as Ariadne was around – they would need to buy another change of clothes before they started drawing attention. He resolved they would do that after they had lunch.

He sighed and ran a hand over his hair again. He was not looking forward to the remaining three days they had in the Dreamscape. Despite all of his best intentions, he was doing a terrible job of keeping her at arm's length. The worst part was that he knew he really wasn't putting in that much effort either. Each day it was getting harder to tell himself to stay away and he was starting to think that by the end of the week, he'd either be in love with her or he'd kill her himself out of pure frustration.

Still, he couldn't deny that waking up with her in his lap had felt very good, even if it had tempted him at the same time. Ariadne Bishop was horrible for his self-restraint.

The bathroom door opened and he looked back to see her coming out, bare foot and in the process of tying her scarf into place. He watched the way she meticulously smoothed the silk around her throat and something suddenly struck him. "Why do you always wear those neck scarves?" he asked curiously. "It's not really fair that you teased me for having habits when you do the same thing with your scarves."

Ariadne looked for a moment like a child caught doing something wrong. "It's silly," she confessed, fingering the silk awkwardly. Arthur nodded gently, prompting her on. She bit her lip hesitantly and then reached back to untie the scarf. As she pulled it off she simultaneously tugged down the neckline of her vest-top The skin on the front of her neck and collar was discoloured on the left side, a bleached blemish that covered several inches along the hollow of her throat and collarbone.

"What happened?" he asked, his stomach twisting at the sight. Was it a scar? How had she been injured so badly?

"It's a birthmark," she explained timidly, twisting her scarf through her fingers. "I was always really self-conscious about it as a kid. I always wore turtle-neck jumpers or collared shirts so it was covered. When I was nine my grandparents went to India and bought me a Hermes scarf as a souvenir. I loved it so much I started wearing them all the time, and then I just never stopped."

Arthur's eyes traced the misshapen blemish and then flicked up to her uncertain expression. "You know, I have two freckles the size of pennies above my knee. One time Griffin drew a mouth under them so they looked like a smiley face. It didn't come off for a week."

Ariadne laughed but her eyes were softer and grateful. She put the scarf on and then threaded her arm through his. "Well then, Smiley, let's go to lunch."

"Cheap shot," Arthur mumbled but he was smiling too as they left the room.

The bistro on the ground floor was designed to look like a Parisian cafe, down to the ambient music and bilingual menus. There was outdoor patio seating being drenched in the persistent rain. Arthur and Ariadne settled in at an ornate white metal table in a corner by the wide French windows. A young waitress came over just after they'd sat down and they placed their orders. Neither of them spoke, just admiring the ambiance of the place, until after the waitress had returned with their coffees and the overly decadent pastry Ariadne had asked for.

"That looks really sugary," he said, eyeing it uncertainly. He had never had much of a sweet tooth himself, and just seeing some of the treats Eames liked to indulge in had been enough to give him a stomach ache half of the time.

"It is," she agreed excitedly. "Here, try a piece." She broke a piece off with her fingers and offered it out to him. He reached out to take it but she moved her hand away from his. Shooting him a significant look, she held it out to him at eye level.

"Ariadne," he said, a bit exasperatedly when he realised what she intended.

"Arthur," she replied teasingly. "C'mon, it's just a bit of pastry, it won't kill you."

At this point he doubted that very much, but he was done pointlessly arguing with her for now. Leaning forward, he allowed her to put the piece of sugared bread into his mouth. Her fingertips brushed his lip in the process and it sent an electric shock through him. If she noticed his shudder, she didn't comment as she went back to her snack.

"Good, isn't it?" she said.

"Yeah," he agreed, barely tasting the sweet dissolving on his tongue. "Good." She grinned triumphantly but there was something sparkling in her eyes that made him think she knew exactly what she did to him. He hated himself for being aroused by the fact that she had managed to best him again. He wasn't quite positive when harmless flirting had turned into a battle of one-up-man-ship, but she was clearly winning.

A distraction arrived at that moment in the form of the waitress bringing their lunches. Arthur eagerly tucked into the bowl of steaming tomato soup, while across the table Ariadne began systematically dismantling her grilled turkey-and-cheese sandwich. "What are you doing?" Arthur asked, pausing in blowing on a spoonful of soup to watch her.

"Crusts," she responded and peeled another edge from the sandwich.

"Are you serious?" he asked in amusement. "You can't eat the crusts?"

"Not while they're on the sandwich," she said. Then she picked up a piece of discarded crust and promptly dunked it into his soup.

"Hey!" Arthur said indignantly, trying to fend her off with the spoon. "Do they not have table manners in Deerfield, Illinois?"

Ariadne laughed. "I grew up with four teenage brothers," she said by way of response.

"Yeah, well I _was_ a teenage boy and I still managed to learn some basic etiquette," he pointed out.

"Of course you did. You went to a prep school. It was probably part of the curriculum there," she said. Arthur fought against the heat crawling up the back of his neck. "Sorry Arthur, I didn't realise you were afraid of girl cooties."

"You're insufferable," he said but he couldn't fight the slight grin that stole across his face. Then he plucked up one of her bread crusts and dipped it into his soup. He laughed at her look of surprise. "If you insist on stealing my soup, you're at least sharing the bread."

"That sounds like a fair compromise," she said, and pushed the napkin of bread crusts into the centre of the table. She hopped from the seat on the opposite side and slid into the chair closer to his, and then dipped into his soup again.

The entire world suddenly began to shudder like an earthquake, making the dishes clink and the ceiling lamps sway ominously. Ariadne seized Arthur's hand in a panic, instinctively drawing closer to him. "What's that?"

"It's okay," he assured her even as his senses went into overdrive, searching for trouble. "It's just turbulence on the plane."

She nodded but didn't relinquish her grip on his fingers. "Relax," he said, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. "They didn't even notice, see?" The Projections in the bistro were still going about their business as if nothing had happened. "Reacting just makes them suspicious."

"Right," she said and hurried to compose her expression. "Sorry." She let go of his hand but didn't slide back to her side of the table. Arthur minded a lot less than he ought to have.

They finished their lunches over small talk that eventually made Ariadne relax again. She brightened up considerably when he mentioned shopping so she ended up wolfing down the last of her sandwich with inhuman speed and then sat staring at him expectantly until he abandoned the remains of his soup. He had the bill added to their room tab and they left the bistro.

The cashier scrutinised them as they walked out. Arthur gave him a diplomatic smile but when the man didn't return it he put an arm around Ariadne's shoulders and tucked her against his side protectively. He didn't like the way the Projection was watching them.

The strange looks continued at the clothing boutique. It was only ever one or two people at a time, but the Projections would glance their way and their gaze would linger just a little too long to be casual. He wasn't sure what had caused it, but the Projections were starting to suspect something.

"You nearly finished?" he asked through the changing room door.

"Just a second," Ariadne called back, her voice muffled. Arthur fidgeted anxiously until the door opened and she stepped out. She'd traded her jeans for a new pair and her new blouse was a soft ivory colour, but she still wore the same blue scarf around her neck. "What do you think?"

"I think you look as beautiful as always," he said sincerely. "You ready?"

Ariadne brushed passed his extended hand to throw her arms around his neck. As he returned the gesture in surprise she tucked her face into the side of his neck just below his ear. The feel of her lips ghosting over his skin was so distracting he nearly missed what she whispered. "They are staring at us."

"I know," he murmured back, tucking his face into her hair so no one would see his mouth moving. "We need to move on before they figure us out."

"Front or back?" she asked.

"Back," he said after a moment's consideration. "Less people."

She hummed in agreement and then sank down to her heels and took his hand. "I wanna look at one more thing before we go," she said and then started pulling him toward the back of the store. "I thought we could pick out something special for tonight," she continued with a soft laugh. Confused, Arthur looked up and read the department sign at the very back of the store: _Lingerie. _He couldn't stop himself from blushing.

"Oh and Arthur," she said and abruptly stopped. She wheeled around to face him and there was a hard, blazing look in her eyes he'd never seen before. "Quick," she said and stepped so close he could count the individual freckles on the bridge of her nose. "Give me a kiss." And she closed the impossibly small distance between them.

This kiss was so much longer and deeper than the last. Arthur used his grip on her hand to tug her forward until their bodies collided and she immediately threaded a hand through the hair at the base of his neck for better leverage. By the time they pulled apart Arthur was so breathless that his heart was pounding in his ears.

Ariadne fixed him with a satisfied smirk and said, "Yeah, worth a shot." With a quick wink, she turned and started hauling him to the back of the store again.

Despite the dangerous situation they were in and the tense knot of worry deep in his chest, Arthur found himself laughing. She'd one-uped him yet again.

. . . . .

Getting out of the store turned out to be easier than Ariadne had expected. From the lingerie section – where she'd taken delight in pointing out several outfits and watching the blush consume Arthur's face and neck – they slipped into a back storeroom and then out of an employee entrance. Once they'd escaped the suspicious looks of the employees in the narrow parking lot by ducking into an alley, Arthur pulled her under the shelter of a doorway to regroup.

"We need to get somewhere without a lot of Projections," he said, shoving his damp hair back off his forehead. "They are starting to get suspicious, but not enough to start attacking yet."

"We've still got like three more days," she pointed out anxiously, huddling down inside her jacket for warmth. "Is it even possible to avoid them for that long?"

Arthur's grim expression was not the reassuring answer she'd been hoping for. "We need to get to the least populated area of the city," he said, all Point Man mode again. "Somewhere we can get away from the public, preferably inside. It would be best to stay away from motels though; too many staff members. That ring any bells?"

"The least populated place is the warehouse district," she said. "It would put us back by the warehouse, but it's away from the residential area so it's our best bet of getting away from people. There might be some empty offices or apartment buildings we can hide out in."

Arthur seemed to mull this over for a few seconds and then he nodded. "That sounds like the safest option for now."

"It's either that or the subway tunnels," she said.

"We'll save those for a real emergency," he said with a tight smile. "Okay navigator, what's the quickest way? I don't know about you, but I'm freezing."

"The subway entrance is this way," she said. As they stepped out from beneath the shelter of the doorframe, Arthur stripped off his jacket and held it above their heads. She had to press in close to his side to keep under the protection but she didn't mind, both for the added body heat and the smooth amber scent of his cologne.

They made it to the subway without incident. The Projections were still staring but they didn't approach them which Ariadne was grateful for. She knew from experience that bumping and shoving was all too quickly followed by homicidal mania. It took a few minutes of waiting around before they were able to slip down into the tunnel unnoticed, and Arthur let her lead him by the hand through the dimly lit passages. She used the service tunnels to bypass as many of the stations as possible. It was cold and the echoes gave the whole place a haunted feel, but it was still less frightening than being watched by the Projections.

"This will bring us up in a side street just outside the warehouse district," she explained as she dragged him into a narrow tunnel that ended in a ladder welded to the wall. "There'll probably be less people here than at the next train station."

Arthur stared up at the metal covering twenty feet above their heads and set his jaw determinedly. "I'll go first and check that it's safe," he said, putting his soaked jacket back on. "If anything happens to me and I don't give you the all-clear, you stay down here and keep yourself hidden."

"Not likely," she said indignantly.

"I mean it, Ariadne," he said and he turned to face her, giving her a look so intense she nearly staggered under its weight. "No matter what, you keep yourself safe. I will manage on my own, but I couldn't live with myself if something were to happen to you. Understand?"

The fire in his dark eyes was so strong her tongue caught in her mouth, and she could do nothing but nod. He took the handgun from his belt and pressed it into her hand, and then abruptly kissed her quickly before rushing up the ladder. Before Ariadne could muster up any response, he had reached the top and he carefully pushed up the manhole cover. She waited anxiously, the gun handle slippery in her sweaty palm, as he peered out and then finally shoved it aside and climbed out.

Rain drops peppered the concrete beneath her feet as she leant against the wall, watching the faint grey light coming through the opening for any sign of Arthur. Minutes passed in silence, the only sounds coming from the storm and the distant murmur of voices echoing from behind, and then his face appeared at the top of the shaft and he gestured with a hand for her to climb up. Ariadne breathed a sigh of relief and hastily tucked the gun into her waistband, scaling the ladder.

"Careful," Arthur warned as he took her arm and helped her out of the manhole. Once she was on her feet he shoved the manhole cover back into place. She dusted herself off and then turned and her stomach lurched. There was a pair of huddled bodies against the wall of the nearest building, piled over the top of each other haphazardly.

"Arthur, what?"

"Don't look," he said, turning her by the shoulder away from the bodies.

"Are they dead?" she asked tremulously.

Arthur's expression was taut and he put his arm around her shoulders, ushering her up the pavement. "They're not real," he reminded her gently. "They saw me come up. I had to stop them from getting word out." He took his jacket off and held it above her head again, despite the fact that her hair was already hanging in wet coils around her cheeks. "C'mon, we need to get somewhere safe."

He steered her across the street and into a narrow road that ran between two large warehouses. The buildings all looked the same on this side of the city; tall, boxy and neutral-coloured, with high-set windows and steel doors. Interspersed between the warehouses was the occasional dodgy-looking apartment building, made of dark brick and with iron grates over the windows. They passed several of them that appeared too populated until they finally reached one near the docks, where the smell of the river was stiflingly heavy in the air, that seemed deserted. It was a dingy sand-coloured duplex and when they reached the doors it was to find that the locks had been broken off one of the flats and the front window had been broken and had plastic sheeting taped over the hole.

"Looks like a hideaway house for the homeless," Arthur remarked, a grim tension in his expression as he surveyed it.

"That's fitting," Ariadne said and it drew a twitch of a smile from him. He took the gun from her jeans and walked across to the second flat, testing the door. There was an electronic lockbox on the knob but he quickly fixed that using a safety pin from the inner hem of his jacket, and he led the way in with the gun aloft. The flat was vacant, the sparse furniture – a dining table with spindly chairs and a single coffee table – covered in dust sheets that had been put to good use, and the whole place had an air of vacancy.

"Home sweet home," Ariadne said, shutting the door behind them and flicking the deadbolt into place.

"It doesn't look like anyone's been here in a while," he said. "Strange Fischer's mind would make a place like this."

"I think it was Yusuf," she said and pointed at a painting mounted on the wall that had a distinctly African colour palette. "He would've seen buildings like this in the slums of Mombasa. It must've been his mind that built this part of the city. A guy like Fischer wouldn't know poverty if it was dancing naked in front of him."

Arthur chuckled softly as he checked the only other room of the flat, and then came back and nodded. "This will work," he said. "We'll have to be more careful from now on though. We don't want the Projections to figure out where we are."

"What do you think made them suspect us in the first place?" Ariadne finally asked the question that had been burning at the back of her mind all afternoon. "We didn't do anything to get their attention, did we? We were just eating lunch."

"The Dream is getting fragile," Arthur said. "After this many days things are starting to weaken. It was probably the turbulence that set them off."

"You don't think Eames or Yusuf are in trouble, do you?" she asked nervously. She couldn't stand the thought that any of her friends might be in danger out there in the city somewhere.

"No, they're fine," he said, shaking his head firmly. "If one of them had been caught the Projections would be fully hostile by now and we'd all be done for." He regarded her thoughtfully and his expression softened. "You should get some rest. You look exhausted."

"It was more excitement than I expected when I woke up this morning," she agreed idly. She stepped passed him to the second room, which was a small bedroom with an adjoining bathroom that was hardly bigger than a closet. The only furniture in the bedroom was a single queen-size bed. Ariadne dragged the dustcover off of it and then pulled back the off-white bedsheets, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

"I'll keep watch out here," Arthur said and pointed over his shoulder at the sitting room.

"No you won't," she argued, halfway through toeing out of her shoes. "You're just as tired as I am. There's not even a place to sit out there. C'mon." And she patted the other side of the bed deliberately.

To her surprise, Arthur suddenly looked awkward and his cheeks darkened. "I'm fine. You can have the bed."

Ariadne snorted. "Arthur, it's been a long day and I'm too tired to argue with you. We both need rest and I trust you not to jump me in my sleep, okay? We're both adults here. So just lie down and shut up, would you?"

Arthur stood there in the doorway uncertainly for another minute, looking like he was trying to fathom up a decent argument to that, and then he stepped into the bedroom and shut the door. It looked like he was walking on glass as he moved around to the other side of the bed and sat down on the corner of the mattress. Ariadne stripped off her damp clothes and laid them out on the floor, and then slipped between the sheets. On the other side Arthur had slowly undressed with his back to her and climbed into the bed, laying on the furthest edge of the bed.

Giving him up as a lost cause for the time being, she lay down and made herself comfortable. For over an hour Ariadne lay there and listened to his shallow breathing on the other side of the bed but neither of them fell asleep, despite how tired they were. The silence was heavy in the room as they both lay there, but even the quiet wasn't as horrible as the tension. It seemed like any of the walls that Arthur had let down over the last few days had gone back up again along with his Point Man mentality.

Trying to break the awkwardness, Ariadne reached over until she found Arthur's hand where it was folded on his chest. Arthur stiffened but she threaded her fingers through his and held on, and eventually he returned the grip, some of the tension leaving his frame. Ariadne smiled as she closed her eyes and was finally able to drift off.


	6. Day Six

AN: This chapter's a bit more adult than the others but I tried really hard to make sure everything can still slide under the T rating so hopefully it doesn't bother anyone. Also this feels abysmally short after the last one, but I promise the big, epic finale will make up for it. Only two more chapters to go...

* * *

><p><span>Day 6<span>

_Arthur unlocked the door to the house on its cliff above the beach and stepped inside, tired but pleased. It had been a long and gruelling job, more dangerous than the last few had been, and he was grateful to finally be home. The windows must have been opened, because the sharp smells of the Mediterranean were filling the house and combined with the spices of a meal prepared recently. "Mia, you home?" he called out as he shut the front door behind him, dropping his keys on the table beside the door and shrugging out of his jacket._

_"In here," came the reply. Arthur's instincts immediately went into overdrive; that was Mia's voice – musical with her familiar Greek accent – but there was something off about it. It was too high, too forced. He drew the handgun he kept inside his shoulder bag and checked that the safety was off before he continued down the hall. Nothing was out of place, but the hairs on the back of his neck prickled ominously and he swallowed hard. If anything had happened to her..._

_He rounded the corner into the sitting room with the gun held by his hip, ready to lift it in case of danger. His gaze instantly landed on Mia, perched on the sofa in her favourite yellow sundress. She looked up at him and her grey eyes were watery and apologetic. Sitting on the other end of the settee was a broad-shouldered man, a gun held loosely in his hand and settled in his lap. Not an immediate danger, but a clear and poignant threat._

_"_Olá_, Arthur," the man said and his lips drew back in a fierce smirk. "It is good to see you again."_

_"_Senhor_ Moreno," Arthur replied stiffly. "Would you mind putting your gun away?"_

_"You first," Moreno said and gestured at the gun clenched in Arthur's hand. Arthur grimaced but didn't move his hand and the older man grinned. "It seems we have reached an impasse, no?"_

_"Why are you here?" Arthur asked._

_Moreno examined one of the rings on his free hand idly. "You have taken something from me, Arthur," he said, and when he glanced up his eyes were dark and dangerous. "You broke into my mind while I slept and you stole some very valuable information." Mia made a faint, startled noise and looked up at Arthur imploringly. Moreno laughed. "Have you not told her what it is you really do?" he asked tauntingly. "That you use your science to break into people's brains and steal their secrets, to sell to the highest bidder. That you are a thief and a criminal."_

_"It's not like that," Arthur snapped, his hand reflexively curling tighter around the gun. "She's not part of this, Moreno. Your business is with me. Let her go."_

_"No, I do not think so," Moreno said calmly. "I think that as long as she is right here beside me–" at this he shifted the gun in his lap just slightly so that the barrel was pointed toward her stomach, "–then you will cooperate. Yes?"_

_"What do you want from me?" Arthur said firmly._

_"I want your word, Arthur Pembroke," the Portuguese man growled out. "I know how to find you and even the lover that you thought you had kept hidden from us all. I want your word that the information that you stole from me will never meet the buyer. If it ever comes to light, then you can be sure that your woman will suffer for your crimes. Understood?"_

_Arthur's jaw clenched at the obvious threat, but he nodded stiffly. "I understand."_

_"Good." Moreno reached out and tucked a strand of Mia's dark hair behind her ear, making her flinch with a soft whimper. Arthur growled warningly. "Oh Miss Amelia, you are such a pretty thing, aren't you?" Moreno said and grinned up at Arthur smugly. Then he stood and levelled his gun with her head. "Now put your weapon away, Arthur. It's time for you to come back to the office with me. We still have some negotiations to make, and a message to send to your teammates."_

_With the barrel of the gun only inches from Mia's trembling face, Arthur had no choice but to comply. He set his gun at his feet and kicked it across the room, where it slid beneath the bureau in the corner. Moreno gestured and a man who had been lurking in the next room came in, securing Arthur's arms behind his back with a pair of thick handcuffs. "Come along, Arthur," Moreno said gleefully as he headed for the door._

_"Mia," Arthur said, turning to face her. She was huddled back into the cushions of the sofa, tears streaking her cheeks and a look of terror on her face. "It'll all be all right, Mia, I promise. Everything will be okay. I'll take care of it, okay? I love you."_

_It was hours before Arthur made it back to the house, limping and bloodied, but his injuries were the least of his concerns. He shoved the door open and shouted, "Mia! Mia, where are you?"_

_The worn floorboards creaked beneath his shuffling steps, the groans of the aged house echoing back to him deafeningly loud in the silence. He called out for her, rushing from one room to the next, but there was no one. The place was as vacant as a ghost town. His heart was hammering painfully against his bruised ribs and he was just about to turn around and head back to find Moreno and murder him for going back on his word when he spotted it: there, on the nightstand beside their bed, was a handwritten note beneath a slim golden ring._

_He picked them both up with shaking hands and as his eyes flew over the angular Greek text he felt a tightness forming in his chest. The note was short and to the point; an apology and a goodbye. The paper crumpled in his fist and his legs gave out beneath him._

Arthur woke shaking, and it took him a second to make sense of where he was. He was in bed, the sound of water in the air and a warm body in his arms. A small breath of relief left him. It was only a bad dream...

Except no, that wasn't right. Those weren't ocean waves outside and there was a metallic, industrial smell to everything. This wasn't the soft bed with the silk sheets that smelled of lilac. And the woman in his arms was most definitely not Mia.

He blinked a few times and the memories cleared. His eyes drifted down to the top of Ariadne's head – the only part of her not hidden by the blankets or him – and chuckled dryly. They had fallen asleep on opposite sides of the bed but at some point in the night they had moved, and were now thoroughly tangled in each other. Of course...

It seemed like the harder he tried to keep her at a distance, the closer she got. He didn't have it in him to fight her. After Greece – after Mia – he had promised himself never again. It wasn't fair to drag another person into his mad, dangerous life, and it would inevitably end in pain. So why couldn't he stop himself from letting her in? Why was he tightening his arms around her instead of trying to put a respectable amount of distance between them?

_Damn Cobb and this whole job..._

This level of forced intimacy made everything so much worse. It wasn't just play-acting as a couple, either. They were trapped together, with nowhere to go to get a little space. It had been so much easier to ignore his attraction to her up top, when he'd had so many other things to occupy his mind. Down here his sole concern was her and her safety.

He still wasn't fully recovered from the anxiety of the day before either. No matter what he'd told her, he honestly wasn't sure what had triggered the Projections. He didn't think the others had been caught but he couldn't guarantee anything. This Dreamscape was so different from any other job that he felt completely out of his element. When things had started going south, his only thought was to keep Ariadne safe at whatever cost. Climbing out of that manhole, he had been more afraid than he cared to admit. So in that moment of nerves – realising it was very possible he would be cast into Limbo the moment he reached the road – he had grabbed Ariadne and kissed her, trying to imprint the sensation on his memory to cling to when the madness crept in. The fact that he'd then survived had made the whole thing incredibly awkward.

Ariadne murmured in her sleep and nuzzled her face into his tee-shirt and Arthur instinctively smoothed her hair and shushed her until she stilled again. She needed the rest after everything they'd been through. He knew she hadn't been sleeping well since they had come into the Dreamscape, even though she tried to hide it from him. Besides, as long as she was asleep he wouldn't have to face her inevitable questions that he just didn't have any answers for.

Arthur shook his head. Worrying about these things wouldn't do him any good right now. The best he could do was get a few more hours rest so he was alert in case of danger. He quickly checked that his gun was still tucked into the edge of the mattress where he'd put it, easily accessible in an emergency, and then he made himself comfortable. He lay his head down above Ariadne's and fell asleep with his fingers twined through her hair and her soft breaths on his collar.

. . . . .

Arthur woke several hours later when Ariadne started to stir awake, grumbling sleepily into his shoulder. "Wha'time's'it?" she asked without removing her face from his shirt.

Arthur disentangled his arm to squint at his watch. "Just about noon," he said.

"What?" Ariadne lifted her head to look up at him in shock. "We slept that long?"

"It happens when you've been in a Dream for so long," he explained. "It's a sort of biological reaction of your body trying to straighten itself out. Like putting your body into stasis to pass the time more quickly."

"That's kind of nice," she said thoughtfully. "I'm ready for this whole thing to be over." Arthur hummed his agreement, deciding not to point out that it meant for the last eighteen hours they had been completely vulnerable. They would have to take to sleeping in shifts from now on as a precaution. He didn't think the Projections had any reason to suspect they were here, but this job had been nothing if not unpredictable. "So now what do we do?" Ariadne asked. "I was bored in the fancy hotel room. This place doesn't even have a radio."

Arthur chuckled, rolling onto his back and stretching languidly. "I guess you'll just have to be creative," he said. "You'll think of something." There was an almost suggestive glint in her eyes as she smiled at him that made heat curl in his stomach and he hastily cleared his throat. "I'm going to scout the house and find the best vantage points, so we can keep watch for Projections." He shoved aside the blankets that had somehow coiled around his legs and clambered out of bed, snatching up his jeans and the handgun as he headed into the next room. Although he couldn't be positive, he thought Ariadne might have sighed before he shut the door.

After he pulled his jeans on and tucked the handgun into place, he started making a careful circuit of the main room of the flat. He used the dust sheets from the furniture to cover the windows that were bare, being cautious to observe the world outside as he did. It seemed that the poor weather had driven all of the workers away, because the docks and warehouses were mostly deserted. Apart from the occasional car or supply truck driving around the area, there was no one. The work was menial, but it gave him an excuse to avoid both Ariadne and the feelings that were still surging inside of him.

Once he had completely secured the flat, he set up a guard post by dragging the kitchen table to the wall and sitting on it so he could watch the main street through a gap in the curtains. It was boring work and he took to keeping an eye on Ariadne, who was rummaging through the contents of the house for something to entertain herself. She didn't find much, which left her grumbling irritably as she pawed through yet another empty cupboard in the kitchen.

"Well I found a package of stale oyster crackers," she announced sarcastically, tossing the plastic wrapper over her shoulder dismissively. "Couldn't they have left at least a newspaper in here or something?"

"Take a nap," Arthur suggested, preoccupied by watching a man in a thick coat who was ambling down the opposite pavement. "That'll make time go faster."

"Yeah maybe," she said reluctantly, tugging open a kitchen drawer and digging through it. She had gone through two more before she suddenly let out a small exclamation that made Arthur turn instantly, hand on his waistband. "Ah-ha!"

"It's a marker," Arthur noted dryly, spotting the black Sharpie she was holding aloft like some great treasure.

"Exactly," she said, unconcerned by his lack of enthusiasm. "Now all I need is some paper." She went back to rummaging with renewed vigour and Arthur watched with a wry smile. By the time she had gone through every drawer and cupboard in the main room of the flat, she had still not found anything more than an old advert for a pizza parlour and a fork with two of the tines broken off. Undeterred, she squinted around the place and then a brilliant smile crossed her lips. "Of course."

"Course what?" Arthur asked curiously, glancing up from the window to see what she was doing now.

Ariadne didn't answer as she walked over to the blank stretch of the wall beside the front door and uncapped her marker. Wrinkling up her brow in concentration, she sat down cross-legged on the floor and started to draw. Awed, Arthur watched her work. At first there were just a few scattered buildings. Some of them were familiar, like the Big Ben Tower and St. Peter's Basilica, while others were completely original creations. The more she drew, the more the buildings started to cluster and join, forming a sprawling city along the whitewashed wall with influences from all over the world.

More captivating than the sketches though, was her face as she worked. The tip of her tongue was trapped between her teeth, her lips pulled back into a half-smile. Her brow was furrowed as she stared intently at her creations and the intensity of her gaze was magnificent. A loose curl of hair slipped down to the side of her face and she nudged it aside, accidentally drawing a black streak across her cheek in the process.

When she had filled up the lower half of the wall, she pulled the coffee table over and stood on it to continue working on the higher parts. Greek columns, Russian spires, Spanish friezes; nothing was beyond the limits of her imagination or out-of-bounds in her magical city. Although the entire thing was a mash-up of cultures and countries, it somehow blended seamlessly into itself. Arthur had been to nearly every country in the world, but had this place existed in reality he was certain it would have undoubtedly been the most beautiful of them all.

Hours had passed and it was growing darker outside by the time she climbed down from the kitchen chair she had put on top of the coffee table. She had filled the wall from floor to ceiling, turning the span of white into an elaborate metropolis complete with skyscrapers and parks and even residential blocks. Ariadne planted her hands on her hips and eyed her work critically.

"It's amazing," Arthur said, sliding down off the table and standing beside her.

"That corner is a little off," Ariadne said with a frown, gesturing to the top right. "I kept hitting my elbow on the other wall so that museum and the dome on that building ended up a bit angled."

"No, Ariadne, I mean it," Arthur insisted. "It's absolutely stunning. I've never seen a more fascinating place in my life." She turned to glance up at him, looking up shyly through her lashes, and smiled modestly. Arthur found himself caught up in her; the sweet smile, the timid sparkle of her eyes, the smudge of ink on her freckled cheek. He rubbed the ink thoughtfully with his thumb although it didn't do anything more than smear it more. Her breath caught slightly and he felt her lean just slightly into his touch. After all of the madness and danger of the past week, here she was, his beautiful, captivating Ariadne... Cupping her cheek in his palm, he leaned in and kissed her.

Ariadne immediately reciprocated, curling a hand around the back of his neck to draw him closer. His arms wrapped around her body, pulling her flush against his chest, and her free hand fisted in his tee-shirt directly over his hammering heart. When Ariadne nipped lightly at his lip a low groan escaped him. He tightened his arms around her and took several staggering steps until he had her pinned against the wall of drawings. Ariadne took advantage of the new position to hook a leg around his hip.

Arthur could feel weeks' worth of self-restraint melting away as the kiss deepened and their hands began to wander; his hand slipped beneath the hem of her silk blouse, tracing the curve of her side; her nimble fingertips outlined his jaw and neck all the way to his collar; he dragged his fingers back through her hair, gingerly untangling the spots where rain and sleep had matted the curls together; she pushed up his tee-shirt running her fingers around the waistband of his jeans until they tapped the handgun.

"Ari, wait," he said, tilting his head to break the kiss. The nudge against his firearm had been enough to bring him back to reality, reminding him of what exactly their situation was. "We can't."

"Why?" she asked breathlessly.

"Because." He faltered; her fingers were still drawing patterns in the small of his back, sending tingling thrills up his spine that were making it very hard to concentrate. "It's not safe. In the real world, it's too dangerous to be together."

Ariadne drew back and met his eyes, that same fiery, determined focus in her darkened gaze. "But this isn't the real world," she said pointedly, a husky edge to her voice that made his insides turn to molten liquid. "This is just a dream."

His own words from nights before came back to him then and the last of his resolve stuttered. What could one more night of dreaming hurt? He had wanted this – wanted her – for weeks and now she was here and batting aside his every defence. His eyes swept over her hopeful, hungry expression, with her flushed cheeks and her face framed by her brilliant drawings, and his resolution snapped.

Arthur leapt back into the kiss with feverish enthusiasm, which earned an eager moan from Ariadne. Almost immediately she shoved his tee-shirt up to his neck and he reluctantly removed his hands from her waist so she could lift the shirt off completely. He took the opportunity before they reconnected to rid her of hers as well, eyes drinking in the sight of her pale skin and the rose-coloured lace. She pulled him to her again and the feel of her warm skin on his set his every nerve ending on fire.

Grabbing her by the hips, Arthur lifted her off the ground. Ariadne quickly fastened her legs around his waist as he carried her through the door into the bedroom. Stumbling slightly in his distraction, he lowered her onto the bed and climbed up beside her, moving his handgun from his waistband to the floor beside the bed quickly. By the time he'd straightened back up on his knees again, she had made herself comfortable in the middle of the mattress, stretched out on her back and propped up on her elbows. She bit her lip softly as she stared up at him and his stomach gave another warm lurch, pumping waves of fire through his body.

Everything passed in a blur after that for him. Clothes were thrown aside haphazardly, skin was tested and tasted, and the individual sensations spiralled together into one pure moment of dazzling bliss that made him feel as though his body was trying to burst its seams. His shaking arms were the only thing that stopped him from collapsing directly onto the woman beneath him, and he gingerly shifted so he was lying beside her.

"Wow," Ariadne said breathlessly. Arthur chuckled in response because his mind was still too scattered to come up with anything more intelligent. Ariadne cocked herself up on an arm, twisting sideways to face him, and she grinned devilishly. "Shoulda done that days ago."

"We shouldn't have done it now," he rebutted, a bit of trepidation creeping back into his brain as the fog slowly lifted.

"Maybe, but we did," she pointed out and shrugged simply. "And it was good. And you know what? I think we should do it again."

"Ari-" She cut off his protest by pressing her lips to his forcefully. She pressed her body closer to his, burning him with the heat still coming off of her in tidal waves, and snaked a leg across his waist. Then in one swift movement, she sat up so she was straddling his hips, her hands resting on his chest. She tucked her hair behind her ears and grinned at him daringly.

"This time, we're doing it my way," she told him smugly, and when she shifted above him Arthur laughed beneath a groan.

Their game of one-up-man-ship was back on.

. . . . .

It had gotten dark outside and the only noise was the swish of the river at the docks and the persistent tap of the rain. Ariadne let out a contented sigh and settled her head down on her folded arm, watching the profile in front of her in the faint light seeping through the dingy curtains. Despite all of his talk that he would stay awake in case of danger, Arthur had nodded off almost an hour ago and was currently sleeping soundly.

It was fascinating to see the transformation that sleep had on him. Somehow it occurred to her that this was actually the first time she had seen him sleeping here, since he always seemed to sleep after her and wake before her. All of the worry lines and creases had faded from his skin, immediately making him look ten years younger. His normally slicked hair was hanging in loose, haphazard curls across his forehead, and in the ghost of light she could just make out the softest of smiles on his lips. He looked peaceful, which was an expression she had never seen on him before.

Ariadne had to admit, she was feeling pretty good herself. It wasn't the first time she'd had sex, but it had been by far the best. The whole thing had been fevered and passionate, laced with their constant battle for dominance that had resulted in them both being thoroughly satisfied – multiple times. Not to mention that because it was a dream, they had lasted a lot longer than Ariadne was sure they would've up top. Overall, a pretty fantastic experience.

But even more satisfying than that was the fact that she'd finally broken through Arthur's last barrier. He had stopped pushing her away at last. He had admitted to his attraction and given in to it. Things wouldn't be much easier to sort and she reckoned there would still be problems and obstacles, but they had gotten over the toughest part now.

Arthur murmured in his sleep and the arm thrown across her waist tightened slightly. Ariadne smile and obligingly wrapped herself securely around his side, nestling her head into the curve of his shoulder and closing her eyes. Truth be told, she was more than a little ready for a nice nap. For now she was going to enjoy this little victory. Everything else could wait until morning.


	7. Day Seven

Day 7

As Arthur blearily pried his eyes open his emotions switched from ecstasy to guilt so quickly it sent a wave of vertigo through him. All of the warm feelings of blissful contentment were crushed as he took in the peacefully sleeping figure curled against his side. Despite his every resolution not to drag her further into his complicated, dangerous life, he had gone and done exactly that. And worst of all, he'd made it even harder on himself to stay away from her.

Because dear God had it been a fantastic night. Their competitive dynamic had transferred easily to the bedroom and the chemistry had been staggering. Arthur had never felt so deeply connected to another person in his entire life. He could no longer deny his feelings for her – not after he'd made it so clear last night. So what was he supposed to do now?

Arthur carefully disentangled himself from Ariadne's grip, trying not to wake her, although it turned out he needn't bother since she was such a deep sleeper. After picking up his discarded underwear and the handgun, he escaped out into the main room and shut the door gently behind him. He made a quick circuit of the room, checking the windows and looking for any sign of danger on the street. All was clear. Even though it was nearly midday, the only signs of movement nearby were the gulls circling the docks. Laying the gun down on the kitchen table he was using as a guard station, he leaned on his elbows and sighed.

"What've I done?" he muttered wearily. He'd fucked up, that's what he'd done. He'd gone and done the very thing he had vowed never to do again; he'd fallen in love. Because that was the only possible way to describe his feelings for Ariadne. They had passed attraction and infatuation and even lust days ago. He was in love with a woman that his conscience wouldn't allow him to be with.

Arthur cursed through his teeth and slammed his fist against the table. Instantly he froze and strained his ears, but he couldn't hear any indication that the noise had woken her. He let out a breath of relief and closed his eyes against the oncoming headache.

Why did he always do this to himself? He knew it was a bad idea. He had been warned the first time, and he had still done it. And it had ended in total disaster. This time it was even worse, because Ariadne had some idea of what she was getting into with him. Mia hadn't known anything about extraction, and the truth had scared her away. Ariadne, on the other hand, knew the dangers of his lifestyle and she still wanted to be a part of it. That thought frightened him more than he cared to admit.

And the biggest problem was that he couldn't see a way to fix it anymore. There was no way to back out and pretend that it never happened, but once they were up top again they would have to do just that. No one could know about their feelings or she would be at risk. He could leave the business but there would always be people out there who wanted his head. They wouldn't even be able to continue working together because he didn't think he could hide his feelings well enough. Not feelings this strong.

Which meant that as soon as the job was over, so were they.

"Damn it!" He rubbed the bridge of his nose as the pressure between his temples increased.

"Arthur?"

"Ariadne." He spun around so quickly he almost lost his footing. She was standing in the doorway from the bedroom, wearing his shirt and a frown. "I'm sorry," he said, recovering from the surprise. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," she replied. "What's the matter?"

Arthur put on a nonchalant expression. "Nothing."

Ariadne smirked derisively. "You were swearing at a table," she pointed out flatly. "Try again."

He sighed and leaned back against the table, folding his arms over his chest. "It's nothing, really. Just thinking."

"When aren't you?" she teased. She walked over and cocked a hip against the table beside him. "So, what about?"

"It's not-"

"Don't." The stern interruption caught him up short and when he looked over she was frowning again. "Don't do that, Arthur."

"Do what?" he asked.

"Push me out," she said and the defiant lines around her eyes softened as she set her hand on his arm. "Please, just talk to me. What's bothering you?"

Arthur growled under his breath and shrugged off her hand, taking a step to put some distance between them. "It doesn't matter, okay? None of it matters. None of this. Because tomorrow it will all be over and none of it will be real."

"What do you mean?" Ariadne asked, straightening up to face him squarely. "Of course this is real."

"Except it's not," he rebutted. "Remember? This is just a dream; you said it yourself. When we wake up it's over."

"Not all of it," she said, her voice rising passionately. "Not us. This place might be a dream, but we are real. And so is the way I feel about you. Don't you feel the same way?"

"Of course I do," Arthur said. "God, how could I not? But up there it doesn't matter if I love you or not. I'm wanted, Ari, and they will hurt you if they think it will help them get their hands on me. They will _kill_ you. I can't take that risk." His voice caught and he swallowed hard, feeling his determination wavering.

Ariadne abruptly kissed him fiercely. When she pulled back she surprised him by smiling. "Arthur, you stupid, noble idiot."

"What?" Arthur frowned, trying to keep up with the sudden change in mood. "No, I'm serious."

"So am I," she answered. "And I understand what you're trying to do, but don't I get a say in this too?"

Arthur groaned. "No, because it's too dangerous. You don't know what these people are like; the lengths they'll go to just to get what they want."

"Like Fischer, and Saito," she said. "The kinds of people who blackmail and corrupt minds and get rid of anyone who they think is a threat. The same sort of people who will already be after me if they find out I'm involved with this Inception job." She paused to let that sink in and then continued, "So the way I see it, I'm already in. It's just a matter of if I'm on my own when they come for me, or if you're around to watch out for me."

"It's not that simple," he said. "They don't know you're involved. You have a chance."

"You can't be sure though," she said stubbornly. "They could know about me. They wouldn't have if I had stayed behind, but I didn't. I'm here, with all of you. Which means that if Fischer ever suspects and starts looking into it, I'll be on the list with the rest of you."

Arthur snarled and pounded his hand down on the table again, making Ariadne flinch. "I can't do it again, Ari. I can't do this knowing you might get hurt or killed because of me. I won't go through that. Not again. Not with you." He felt his throat tightening and the sadness in Ariadne's expression only made it hurt worse. When she reached for him, he shied away.

"Arthur–" she started plaintively but he shook his head.

"Just – just –" he trailed off, not even sure what he was asking for. Vaguely gesturing that he needed a minute, he turned and shut himself into the bedroom. He was breathing heavily as he sank to the floor and put his head in his hands, giving in to the overwhelming rush of emotions in his head.

. . . . .

Ariadne stared at the closed door in shock, still trying to process what had just happened. She had never seen Arthur get so worked up before. No matter how serious the situation had gotten, he had always reeled it all in and managed to keep a calm exterior. Just now, he had been angry and frightened and almost looked on the verge of tears.

She had thought that things would be easier now but it seemed to have only made things worse. It wasn't that she didn't understand his hesitance. She knew that it was dangerous, and she knew that even more than he apparently thought. But there seemed to be something more than that. There had to be something else going on to make him react this way.

Sitting down on the edge of the coffee table, she tried to rethink her way through their conversation to see if she could figure it out. It had started out simply enough. She had thought they'd made some progress when he stopped pushing her out. He had even admitted that he loved her. _Loved_ her. She knew he felt something for her, but she had never expected that. Not that she minded in the slightest, really. She couldn't imagine her life without him in it anymore, and if that wasn't love, what was?

In that way, she understood why he was scared. The thought of losing him made her feel as if her chest was being trapped in a vice. Especially the possibility of watching him die, the way she'd seen Saito slipping away. Maybe that's what he was really afraid of. _I can't do this knowing you might get hurt or killed because of me. Not again. Not with you._

And suddenly all of the answers clicked into place so quickly that she couldn't believe she had missed it in the first place. She had been so distracted by his abrupt confession of love that she hadn't noticed the glaringly obvious.

Ariadne walked over to the bedroom door and opened it very carefully. Inside she could see Arthur sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back to her, rolling his little red die on the carpet over and over. She cleared her throat and he hastily scooped up the die before turning his head just enough to see her in his periphery.

"Arthur," she started softly. "Who was she?"

By the way the line of his shoulders tensed, she knew she was right. "Who?"

"The girl you lost before," she said, humouring him. She walked over and sat down beside him, trying to make the motion as casual as she could. "What was her name?"

Arthur was silent for so long, moving only to twist his die around between his long fingers, that she started to think he wouldn't answer. Then finally he sighed and said, "Mia. Her name was Amelia, but she hated that so we only ever called her Mia."

"Was she an Extractor too?" Ariadne asked.

"No. She didn't even know about Extraction until the very end," he admitted in the direction of his knees. "I told her about Dream-Sharing eventually but I let her believe I was in it for the psychology study." The die between his fingers began to spin faster. "I was going to tell her, but it wasn't easy to find a right way or time."

"What happened?" Ariadne asked nervously.

"I thought I had kept her a secret from everyone," he said, his voice low and thick. "We got by for so long without anyone knowing. Cobb was the only person I told. I thought she was safe. Cobb and I had just finished a job on a Portuguese ambassador. It was a tough job and we ran into some Sub-Security, but we completed the job and got out of there in one piece. We were so sure he didn't know anything but he found us out. But the time I got back to Greece, he was already there. He was waiting for me at the house, with a gun on Mia, and told me that if his secrets we'd Extracted ever got out, she was dead."

Ariadne gasped. "He killed her?"

The laugh that escaped Arthur's lips was completely devoid of humour. "No, she's still alive. He told her about my work, how we're thieves. I never even got to defend myself. He dragged me off to deal with the rest of the team. By the time I got back she was gone."

"She _left_?" Ariadne's eyebrows sky-rocketed.

"Do you blame her?" Arthur asked darkly. "She had been held hostage and found out the man she was going to marry was a criminal who had been lying to her. She could've been hurt. She could've died."

"And she could've trusted the man she supposedly loved instead of trusting the word of a madman with a gun," Ariadne rebutted. "At the least she should've given you the chance to explain yourself."

"Explain what?" Arthur asked. "He was right. I'm a criminal who was putting her life in danger just by being near her. Everyone figures that out eventually, and that's when they leave. I don't blame her for going. It was the right thing to do."

Ariadne frowned as something in his statement struck her. "Is that what this is about? You're afraid I'm going to leave you?" she asked in shock.

"You should," he said fiercely, looking up to meet her gaze for the first time since she'd come into the room. His eyes were red and swollen. "My life is dangerous and unpredictable. If you stay with me, you'll only end up getting hurt somehow. I don't want to be responsible for that. And I can't lose you that way."

"Well you're going to have to take that risk either way," she pointed out in irritation. "Because either you let me in and run the risk of losing me some day in the future, or the moment this job is over I'm gone. I can't keep going like this, Arthur. I can't keep pretending that what's between us isn't there. I love you, and I love being with you, no matter the cost. But I will not go on acting like last night, like this whole week, hasn't happened. It's been too good a memory to wipe away."

She could see the resolve in Arthur's expression fracturing to pieces. "Ariadne, I–"

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked pointedly.

"No, but-"

"And do you care about me?"

"Of course I do, it's-"

Ariadne pivoted around so they were facing each other. "Then shut up and kiss me," she said, and before he could argue she had closed the distance between them. Arthur melted into the kiss almost instantly and returned it with fervour. As they both sat up on their knees, aligning their bodies together perfectly, the fire from the night before erupted into existence and neither fought against it.

As Arthur pulled her up to her feet along with him, she placed kisses along the side of his jaw until she had reached his ear. "Trust me Arthur," she whispered against the shell of his ear, making him tremble. "I'm not going anywhere."

With a deep, guttural groan, Arthur took her face in his hands and kissed her with all he was worth. He steered her toward the bed, murmuring "I love you" into her skin between kisses, and then set above proving to her just how much.

. . . . .

Several hours later they were lying together in the dark, huddled together beneath the bedsheet. Arthur had an arm around her, holding her close against his chest as he traced aimless patterns across her back with his fingertips. With a contented sigh, Ariadne nuzzled her head more comfortably above his heart and listened to the steady, comforting thumping.

"It's still going to be dangerous, you know," Arthur said quietly into the night air.

"I know," she replied unconcernedly.

"And difficult," he continued. "I spend almost all of my time travelling."

"We'll make it work," she said, idly tracing her fingers along a long scar on his stomach. She smiled when his muscles twitched beneath the contact, wondering if it tickled him. "After all, architects like to travel. It's good to see some work from different places. I always planned on doing a little globe-trotting."

Arthur turned his head so his face was buried in her tangled hair. "We're not supposed to see each other after the job is over," he said distractedly. "Not for at least three months."

"We'll make it work," she repeated.

"How are you so certain?" he asked, his hand stilling on her back.

Ariadne laughed lightly and lifted her head to meet his gaze in the darkened bedroom. "After everything else that we've survived, something as simple as a long-distance relationship should be cake," she said and shrugged.

For a moment Arthur seemed to be shocked, staring at her blankly, and then a small smile curled across his lips, casting a heavy shadow into the dimple of his cheek. "I hope you're right," he said simply.

"I'm always right," she said playfully and felt his chest contract slightly as he stifled a laugh. "Don't worry, Arthur, I'm not giving this up without a fight. Are you?"

Through the shadows he once again fixed her with one of those looks that was so intense that she could physically _feel_ it. He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and then murmured, "Not a chance."


	8. Day Eight

AN: Epic finale is epic. Seventeen and a half pages in Micro Word, full of action and fluff and suspense and even a car chase. Hope you enjoy and thanks for everyone who has subscribed, favourited, and reviewed this story. You're all fantastic.

* * *

><p><span>Day 8<span>

It was the earthquake that woke them. The ground shook so badly that Arthur fell off the edge of the bed and the tangle of blankets nearly dragged Ariadne down on top of him. Immediately he scrambled to his feet, picking up the handgun on his way.

"What is it?" Ariadne asked in alarm, sitting up and hugging the bedsheets to her chest protectively. "Turbulence?"

"I don't think so," Arthur said. He crossed to the window and nudged aside the curtain, peering out into the street. His stomach lurched as he caught sight of the pair of figures on the opposite walk, as well as another at the street corner. "Ari, get dressed."

"What? Why?" she asked even as she slid off the bed and began searching out her clothes.

"We've got to move," Arthur said, grabbing his jeans and jumping awkwardly into them. "We've got company."

"They found us?" Ariadne asked. "How? We haven't even been outside in days."

"They don't know we're here yet, but they're getting close," he explained, tossing her shirt across the room to her. "There's a couple of them hanging around outside and looking uneasy. Something's made the Projections suspicious." He caught his socks when she threw them and leaned against the wall to put them on. "It's after noon now. All we need is a safe place to hide out for another hour or so."

"Back to the subway tunnels then?" she asked, tying her neck scarf into place.

"That's probably our best bet," he agreed. They finished dressing hastily and then moved out into the sitting room.

"If they're outside, how do we get out?" she asked. Arthur had to commend her for staying so calm even though he could see the panic building in her eyes. "This place only has the one door."

"We should be okay to walk out," Arthur said. "They're suspicious but if they were on to us they would be breaking down the door." He readjusted the gun, tucking it into the front of his hip for easier access and then covered it with his jacket. "These are just regular Projections, not Sub-Security. We walk out, calmly as we can. Stick close to me and don't provoke them. As soon as we get away from them, we'll make a run for the subway. If anything goes wrong, you run and hide yourself. There's only a few more hours until the timer runs out."

"Then let's do this," Ariadne said determinedly. She hooked her arm through his left arm – leaving his gun hand free, just in case – and added, "Together." Arthur gave her a taut, grim smile and a kiss on the forehead, and then opened the front door.

Almost immediately there were four pairs of eyes fixed on them. There was a group of three workers hanging around the warehouse across the street, smoking beneath the shelter of the awning. There was another person down closer to the corner of the block, someone huddled and ragged who was staring at them from beneath the rim of a hood. Arthur drew Ariadne closer to his side as the factory workers leered at them.

The rain was no longer pouring as badly as the first day, but it was still steady and cold. By the time they rounded the corner two blocks down, Arthur's clothes were clinging to him uncomfortably and Ariadne's hair had turned to damp ropes of brown. Even though he didn't look back to check, he could still feel the eyes of the Projections following them as they turned onto the next street, and ahead of them there were two older people sitting on a cramped porch, also staring. He fought the instinctual urge to put his hand on his gun, not wanting to startle them into action.

Ariadne was silently leading the way toward the subway tunnels by steering him by the arm. Even though she was shivering from the cold – and probably from nerves – she was doing a great job of not letting it show. He had seen plenty of well-trained Extractors lose their heads in a tense Dream situation, but she was keeping calm and focused. Arthur slid his arm from hers and then laid it around her shoulders, drawing her closer to his side both for warmth and for comfort. She gave him a grateful smile as she rested her arm on his waist and moulded herself into him.

The closer they got to the main city, the more people they passed on the streets. People watched them from the windows of the apartment complexes, and there were people in heavy coats or beneath umbrellas who passed them on the pavement. A man with his coat hood drawn up over his head rammed his shoulder into Arthur's, and he staggered against Ariadne at the impact. She made a startled noise but he shot her a significant look and shook his head. "Don't provoke them," he reminded her. "It'll make it worse. Don't worry, we're nearly there." Truthfully they were only halfway, and as the Architect she would have known that, but she didn't argue the fact with him.

Half a block later another man collided roughly with Ariadne's side, and around the next corner a woman ran into Arthur's side and then actually paused long enough to give him a dark look. Arthur pulled Ariadne closer as they continued on, only a few blocks from the city proper. Just one more corner and two more blocks, and they would be there. He let out a grateful breath. They might actually make it.

And then they turned the corner right into a volley of gunshots.

. . . . .

"Down!"

Arthur's bellow in her ear was nearly drowned out by the explosion of sound as several guns fired at once. He used the arm across her back to shove her down into a crouch, his body shielding hers. No sooner had they gotten down then there was a pause in the shots and Arthur dragged her up again. Taking her by the hand, he pulled her back around the corner. They bolted down the block and into a narrow side street, and ahead of her Arthur drew his gun.

She could hear the shouts and pounding steps as their attackers chased after them. Even though she hadn't gotten a clear look, she had no doubts that they were Fischer's Sub-Security. Civilians didn't carry semi-automatics, even in Dreams.

Arthur was leading her in a weaving diagonal through the warehouse district, gradually directing them toward the city proper while making sure the Sub-Security never had a good shot at them. Ariadne struggled to keep track of where they were as the raced through the streets. "We're going too far west," she called out when she caught a glimpse of the suspension bridge in a gap between buildings. "If we go much further, we're going to hit the river!"

Although she couldn't make out exactly what he said over the rain and the pounding of her heart, she could tell that Arthur was cursing as he abruptly turned them into another narrow road leading the other direction. There was shouting from the Sub-Security as they realised they had doubled back, and Ariadne flinched as a gunshot shattered the bricks only inches from her head before they escaped into another alley.

The buildings got progressively taller and better constructed as they reached the edge of the warehouse district, and soon they were darting between business buildings instead. The problem was that the alleys started to disappear and left them with solid blocks of running before they could duck behind something for shelter. Also the Projections on the pavement were starting to step into their way, making Arthur elbow them roughly out of the way and slowing them down. Ariadne's heart was racing as she could hear the Sub-Security getting closer behind them.

Quite abruptly a large black van swerved around the corner ahead of them and Arthur skidded to a stop. The side door of the van slid open and three men with automatic rifles jumped out, and the crowd of Projections scrambled out of the way. Ariadne tugged Arthur through the door of the nearest business building just as the Sub-Security started firing.

Not even having the time to second guess what she was doing, Ariadne bolted across the empty lobby and into an available lift. She jammed her hand against a random floor number before Arthur shoved her against the wall. He took up position at the edge of the doorframe and fired off several quick shots at their pursuers until the doors glided shut. The cheerful _ping!_ of the lift seemed at odds with the situation as they both slumped against the metallic walls and panted for breath.

"Now what?" Ariadne managed to ask as she rubbed at a stitch in her side.

"We lose our tail and then we get to the subways," Arthur said. He pulled out the clip of his gun and checked the contents before sliding it back into place. Ariadne's brow furrowed when she caught a glimpse and realised that it was completely full, despite the shots he'd just fired. Dreams...

"Oh, is that all?" she replied sarcastically. He shot her a short smile at the comment but they both tensed as the lift ground to a halt at the seventeenth floor. Arthur stepped protectively in front of her and levelled his gun as the doors swept open. They found themselves facing an empty hallway that seemed to stretch on to either end of the building, lined with identical wooden doors.

The lift dinged as the doors started to close and Arthur immediately stuck his arm in between them, stopping it from shutting. Ariadne ducked into the nearest office and grabbed a trash bin, wedging it into the lift doors until they stopped trying to close with a sad little ping. When the lift in the next shaft started grinding into motion, Arthur aimed the gun and fired two shots into each of the control panels.

"That should hold them for a few minutes," he said, turning and looking around at their surroundings. "Now we need to get out of here."

"A window?" Ariadne suggested uncertainly. "There should be fire escapes on a building this size."

Arthur darted into the closest office and peered down out of the window. "That won't do much good, there's security down on the pavement. If we climb out there they'll shoot us off the side of the building before we're halfway down."

"So we go up then," she responded. "Find a staircase that leads up to the roof and go from there."

"We don't have enough time," Arthur growled in frustration as the lifts made more pathetic whining noises in their attempt to keep working.

Ariadne stared up and down the lengthy hallway and then suddenly her heart leapt. "I have an idea," she muttered and she jogged several yards down. With a quick thought she found a handle on the wall and heaved, pulling the enormous mirror out until it spanned the length of the hallway.

"What're you doing?" Arthur asked in alarm. "Changing things will just bring them here faster."

"I'm buying us some more time," she said, racing passed him down the hall and then finding another handle just where she imagined it would be. She jerked the mirror out into the hall and then looked into the reflection in satisfaction. She could see herself and Arthur reflected a thousand times over in what appeared to be a never-ending hallway of identical doors stretching on through the opposing mirrors. With a smile, she placed her palm against her reflection and the glass shattered and disappeared.

"My God," Arthur breathed. He stood looking back and forth down the hallway that had magically extended into oblivion, his awe evident. "Where did you learn that?"

"Figured it out on my own," she replied smugly, taking his hand and starting off running down the hallway. "First time I was in a Dreamscape."

Behind her Arthur chuckled and when she glanced back at him he was grinning. "That is incredibly hot," he said with a roguish wink and she beamed in pride, her cheeks flushed.

After running passed at least a hundred doors, they finally dodged into one of the offices and shut the door behind them. "It'll take them ages to figure out which room we're in," she said as she wedged the utilitarian desk chair beneath the door handle. "While they're checking them all, we'll slip outside and climb up to the roof."

"That could actually work," Arthur said, peeking around the edge of the window frame curiously. "If we move quietly, the security on the ground shouldn't spot us. From the roof we can try to find another building to jump across to. Good thinking."

Ariadne tried not to be too pleased by the compliment, or by the intensity of his dark-eyed stare that showed even more than his words just how amazed he was by her. She promised herself that the moment they could see each other again up top, she was going to find a way to put that look back in his eyes because right now it was making her insides burn with exhilaration. He must have been thinking along the same lines because the corner of his lips quirked, bringing his dimple back into life, and he gave the shallowest of nods.

Without any further discussion, Arthur carefully slid open the window and climbed out onto the ledge. "We're going to have to scale over a few windows," he whispered in to her, crouching on the sill. "Your never-ending hallway means we can't reach the corner room where the fire escape actually connects. You a good climber?"

"I'm gonna have to be," she pointed out simply and shrugged. Arthur nodded and then stood, so all she could see were his long legs standing on the ledge. He inched sideways until he could step onto the next window over, and then Ariadne took a deep breath before clambering out after him.

The dizzying height made her cling to the brick face of the building as she waited for the vertigo to abate, rain dripping off the ledge above and rolling in freezing trails over her skin. She had never had that much of a problem with heights before, and in Paris she had loved to stand on top of tall buildings to just look out over the beautiful city, but something about falling off a skyscraper in Limbo had left her uneasy about the amount of space between her feet and the ground. Especially since the only thing keeping her from meeting the ground very painfully was her awkward grip on the windowframe and the narrow ledge of wet stone she was standing on.

"Come on, Ariadne, it'll be okay," Arthur murmured from two windows over, where he was pressed against the glass and watching her in concern. "It's just a few more yards."

Ariadne swallowed hard and slowly shifted herself over to the edge of the windowsill. She took a second to steady herself, and then gingerly pried one hand free of the brick to reach over to the frame of the next window. A few seconds later her foot followed and she straddled the four-foot stone gap between windows awkwardly, trying not to imagine the sensation of falling. Two more deep breaths, and then she managed to finally scoot the last of her body into the window frame.

"That's it, you're doing great," Arthur said. As she cautiously inched her way toward him, he moved on to the next window and then paused, waiting for her even though he was now only one window away from the safety of the metal fire escape. Ariadne crossed this gap faster than the first, and Arthur smiled reassuringly at her before he slipped to the next window, and then over the railing onto the fire escape.

Focusing only on his comforting expression and the narrow ledge she had to step onto, she carefully moved on to the next window. One more and she would be there. She smiled tautly in response to Arthur's nod, and then shuffled her feet across the ledge.

Quite abruptly her foot slid on a puddle of water that had collected in the brick beneath her. A scream tore from her throat as her foot slipped and she cling to the damp window frame by her fingertips, the coarse bricks scraping her fingers raw. "Ariadne!" Arthur yelled in panic, stretching his arms out over the railing but he couldn't reach her.

"I'm okay," she replied, pulling her feet in toward the building again and finding a safer foothold. She had to stand there for a second, catching her breath, but her recovery was cut short by the echo of voices from beneath and then the sharp crack of a gunshot.

"Ari, you've got to hurry," Arthur said and for the first time she could see that his face showed nothing but panic. A bullet hit the brick not far from her right hand and she shrieked again, struggling not to instinctively jump away from the danger. Bracing himself on the railing, Arthur reached his arms out as far as they'd go and said, "You've got to jump."

"What?" Ariadne asked in terror, looking at the ten-foot gap between them.

"Jump, Ariadne," he repeated earnestly. A brick below the ledge exploded into dust, quickly followed by the next window over shattering. "I won't let you fall, I promise. But you've got to jump!"

Ariadne met his scared gaze and then nodded. Twisting so she was facing him as best as she could on the narrow ledge, she coiled up the muscles in her legs and threw herself forward. There were five seconds that felt like an hour where she was free-flying, soaring through the air with no sensation except for the weightlessness and fear. And then she collided roughly with the iron railing and Arthur's arms curled around her securely.

"I've got you," he whispered as he grabbed her more firmly. Ariadne let out a strangled sob of relief and he held onto her as she dragged her shaking legs over the rails and onto the grating. She clung to Arthur, grateful for the safety of his arms, until there was another smattering of gunfire that rattled the fire escape. Arthur fired three quick shots over the edge – there was one startled scream from below as a man in black military uniform crumpled to the pavement – and then in a flash his hand had found hers and he charged up the stairs with her in his wake.

Ariadne couldn't breathe by the time they reached the roof thirteen floors up, and she would've stopped were it not from the persistent shouts from below and the knowledge that the men inside undoubtedly knew they were no longer in the hall of offices. She staggered off the ladder onto the gravel roof, where she promptly slumped against the low wall and tried to catch her breath. Arthur immediately started searching the area, his gun held at the ready.

"It looks like that is our only choice," he announced, getting her attention. He was pointing across to the building opposite, a multi-level parking garage that was just slightly shorter than theirs but one very long jump away.

"You're kidding!" Ariadne gasped, stumbling upright and crossing to him for a better look. "I can't jump that far!"

"Of course you can," Arthur countered. "It's still a Dream." There were thundering footsteps from behind the door that led to the roof and Arthur hastily locked it, barring the handle with a piece of metal piping and dragging a heavy crate in front of it. "Ari, go!" he shouted, bracing his shoulder against the crate. "I'm right behind you. Just remember, it's a Dream."

Ariadne kissed him fiercely and when they broke apart she could see the same passion and uncertainty in his eyes that she felt. Somehow it made her feel better. There was a loud crash as the Sub-Security barrelled into the closed door and Arthur dug his heels into the loose ground as they hammered on the door. "I'll see you on the other side," he said with the faintest smile, and she nodded in agreement. Then she turned and took off running.

She wiped everything else from her mind and focused on the edge of the roof that was getting closer at an alarming rate. The ground crunched beneath her feet and she kept her eyes on the low concrete wall that was her first hurdle. She stepped onto it without breaking stride and then, with one fleeting prayer, she flung her body into the open air.

It was much like the last time, only infinitely worse. The alleyway below felt miles away and the rain spattered her face, blinding her. There was one agonisingly long minute in which she thought she must be plummeting to her death, and then her foot clipped the rail of the opposite roof and she rolled to an ungraceful stop against an SUV. Every inch of her ached like she'd been beaten, she thought she might have wrenched her shoulder, and there was surely a sizeable lump on her forehead where it had struck the wheel well, but she was alive.

"I made it!" she called back across the gap. No sooner had she spoken then an explosion of bullets tore through the door and the crate, and Arthur lunged awkwardly to the side with a choked scream to avoid it. "Arthur!" she screamed when he didn't immediately get back up.

There was another round of bullets eating their way through the barricade by the time that Arthur clumsily stood. She saw him brace himself for a split second before he began running toward her. He had just reached the edge when the door broke apart and the Sub-Security started forcing their way out onto the roof. Ariadne watched in horror as his feet hit the roof just as the Sub-Security opened fire. He rolled to soften the impact and get out of the way, but Ariadne wasn't quite so fast in ducking behind the SUV. A stray bullet seared across her arm, and she let out a cry as it simultaneously tore and burned through her skin.

"Keep moving!" Arthur bellowed hoarsely from where he was heaped on the ground. They both got up and took off again, ducking behind vehicles whenever the Sub-Security reloaded and fired. They reached the area where the ramp led down to the next floor and Arthur bolted over to the car where Ariadne was huddled.

"Are you okay?" he asked breathlessly.

She cowered when the bullets shattered the windows of the car they were behind, raining glass down onto them. "Fine," she answered. She hurt like hell, but for their situation she figured she was doing pretty well. Arthur, on the other hand, seemed to be favouring one side and his breathing was ragged. "Are you?"

"Fine. Come on," he said and he reached up through the broken window to open the passenger side door. He crawled up and across to the other side, settling into the driver's seat and leaning down to fiddle with the wires beneath the panel. She was a little perturbed by his evasion, but now didn't seem like a good time for an argument. Instead she climbed into the passenger seat, pressing herself back into the seat as the engine roared into life.

Arthur was grinning slightly as he threw the car into reverse and slammed on the accelerator. The tires squealed on the slick concrete as they pinwheeled backwards and Ariadne ducked her head when bullets cracked through the front and rear windows. The transmission groaned as he flipped it into drive and they peeled down the ramp and into the next level of cars. "We still need to get to the subway," he said, stomping on the brakes to avoid sliding into a parked car. "There's no way we can keep driving around long enough to avoid them, we learned that last time."

"You mean when Saito got shot?" she said tensely. They had gone down four more levels of the garage and they were getting progressively closer to the bottom. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what was waiting for them at the bottom.

"You're going to be okay," Arthur said, shooting her a significant look. "I'm going to get you out of here, I promise."

"Just focus on the road," she responded, trying to mask her fear and trying to not think about what would happen if they didn't make it out. She supposed if there was anyone she wanted to be trapped in Limbo with, it would be Arthur. Still, she'd prefer Reality if she had any say in the matter.

They glided down the ramp to the main level and Ariadne's heart fell into her stomach when she saw the exit. Three large black SUVs were blocking the opening, and a line of Sub-Security were standing in front of their cars with their guns held at the ready. Arthur cursed darkly. "Get down!" he said and then floored the accelerator, sticking his gun out of the side window and shooting as he steered them directly toward the line of cars. Ariadne's eyes widened as she realised what he was doing and she hastily bent over, shielding her head with her arms.

Bullets fired through the windscreen, adding more holes to the ones already there, until it finally gave in beneath the pressure and exploded inward. She closed her eyes and waited, praying that Arthur would be all right, and braced herself. The entire world jerked roughly and she was thrown into the dashboard, the sound of metal on metal deafening her. The engine made a sickening noise as it tried to plough through the barricade and Ariadne thought that this time it must really be the end for them.

And then the roar of the engine picked up and she let out a breath of relief. "Are you okay?" Arthur asked.

"Fine," she said, sitting up with a groan and clutching her bruised shoulder. She looked over at Arthur and grimaced. There were two deep cuts on his face and another on his hand from the shattered glass. He looked paler and his jaw was locked, but as far as she could tell he was all right. "How did we make it out?"

Arthur chuckled dryly. "This isn't my first car chase," he said simply. She looked out the empty windscreen and grimaced at the mangled front of the car, where the hood had bent and crushed inward. There was something like that looked suspiciously like blood smeared up the passenger side. "Do you know where the next closest subway entrance is?"

"I have no idea," she said apologetically. "We were running around so much I've gotten a bit turned around. Sorry."

"Don't worry about – _shit_!" He swerved hard to the side to avoid a Sub-Security car that came blazing through the intersection ahead of them. "It's okay," he said once they had straightened out again. "We'll find one."

It was undoubtedly the single most terrifying car ride that Ariadne had been on, including the one where she and Cobb had been hit by the train in the middle of the road. Their battered car weaved in and out of traffic, taking sharp turns to avoid Sub-Security blockades while bullets clanged loudly off the chassis.

Ariadne stiffened, frowning. "Did you hear-?" She didn't get to finish her sentence because Arthur abruptly swung the car around a corner and she fell against the door, knocking the breath out of her.

"What?" he asked once they had steadied.

"There!" Ariadne shouted, leaning forward to point through the empty windscreen in her excitement. There was a subway entrance just a few metres ahead and the Sub-Security vans were just far enough behind that they had a chance of getting in without getting shot.

Arthur cut across two lanes of traffic and then pulled their car up right in front of the entrance, making Projections scatter to avoid being run down. Without hesitation, Ariadne kicked open her bent-in door and jumped out, and a second later Arthur had joined her. "You lead, I'll cover you," he said and she nodded once before jogging down the steps into the station.

She had hardly gotten off the stairs before a Projection grabbed her by the elbow roughly. A split second later the Projection crumpled with a scarlet hole in his neck. She stared at her blood-stained hand in shock until Arthur nudged her from behind. "Keep moving," he murmured and she stumbled a few steps before getting moving again. Ariadne tried not to pay attention as any Projection that got within feet of her was shot, the echoes of the bullets blocking out everything except the frantic beating of her heart.

They were both spattered in gore by the time they reached the edge of the platform, and she jumped down onto the tracks on shaking legs. Arthur picked off the last few nearby Projections until the Sub-Security reached the bottom of the stairs with a clamour. He jumped down beside her and she grabbed his arm, dragging him behind her as she raced into the tunnels.

They ran with no regard to their destination, just trying to put as much distance between themselves and their pursuers as possible. They had run through over a mile of winding tunnels before a faint, lilting sound reached Ariadne's ears, just audible beneath the echoing footsteps and garbled shouts, like she was hearing it somewhere in the back of her mind instead of in the air around her.

"Arthur, can you-?" she panted.

"I hear it," he responded and she caught the faint grin that flashed over his lips. "The musical countdown."

Her heart soared at the confirmation and she finally allowed herself to hope. They were so close. They might actually make it. "I heard it before," she said eagerly. "In the car."

"Less than twenty minutes," he said. Someone rounded the corner behind them and let off a shot, and the bullet embedded itself in the concrete above Ariadne's head. Arthur took her elbow and jerked her into a side tunnel. Twisting around the corner, he fired and there was a sickening thump. "Need a hiding place," he said, wheezing slightly. "Room with no way in. Make it."

"You said I can't change things," she pointed out. "It upsets them more."

"Little late for that," he snapped. "Can't keep running. Just close us off so they can't get to us."

"I can-" Her argument broke off as Arthur coughed mightily and blood speckled his lips. She started picking up on little things – his laboured breathing, his hunched posture, his fragmented sentences – and realised that they had to do with so much more than just the exertion. He wasn't saying that _they_ couldn't keep running, he was saying that _he_ couldn't. Whatever injuries he had been diligently avoiding were catching up with him.

While Arthur fended off their followers, she looked around until she found a dead-end tunnel a few metres ahead. She pulled Arthur along with her into it, and then turned her focus to the concrete. The walls slowly slid closer to each other, like a giant was pinching them together, until they met and the concrete melded shut. They were safely closeted away in a small, square-shaped chamber of solid concrete. Seconds later came the muffled hammering of the Sub-Security as they tried to find a way in.

Now that they were relatively safe, Ariadne turned back to Arthur. He was leaning against the back wall, clutching his torso. He looked even paler than before, and a sweat had beaded on his skin, making the blood drip in lines down his angled features. As she watched he gritted his teeth and slid down to sit on the floor, his locked jaw a weak attempt at hiding his pain.

"Arthur!" she said in a panic, and she dropped to her knees beside him. She moved his arm out of the way and peeled away the black jacket that she could now feel was stained with blood that had camouflaged in the dark fabric. Much of the lower half of his shirt was a dark crimson, spreading downward from a quarter inch hole in his upper abdomen. "My God," she breathed in horror.

"I'll be fine," he mumbled. "It went straight through. Just need to stop the bleeding now and I'm okay."

"When did this happen?" she asked, helping him shed his jacket. As he leaned forward she could see the small hole on his back that was undoubtedly the other end of the bullet wound.

Arthur's face was slightly closed off and she thought for a minute that he was going to refuse to answer, before he finally said, "The roof."

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked, torn between anger and fear.

"Least of our problems," he muttered.

"You're lucky you haven't bled to death already," she growled. She had folded his jacket into a small bundle and she had him lie back onto it so it could staunch the bleeding from his back. He grimaced as he laid down and she cradled his head on her folded legs for support.

"You bleed slower in Dreams," he said nonchalantly as she stripped off her own drenched jacket. "Brain can't make sense of time." Ignoring his attempt to be reasonable, she balled it up and pressed it to the other side of the wound, eliciting a groan from him.

"You're stupid, you know," she said. "You still should've said something sooner."

"What good would it have done?" he replied, his fists clenching at his sides. "We couldn't have stopped or they'd have killed us both. We had to keep moving."

She knew that he had a point, but she wasn't through being mad at him. "We could've done _something_," she argued, feeling childish even as it came from her mouth. Arthur winced and she realised that in her frustration with him she had been gradually pushing down harder on his stomach. She lightened the pressure a little and added softly, "I didn't come all this way just to lose you now."

Arthur's expression softened and he set his hands on top of hers. "Neither did I," he said firmly. There was a loud thud from the wall – the Sub-Security was trying to break through. "Just a couple more minutes," he added resolutely. She heard the rasp in his breathing and prayed he had that long.

"Where are you going to go when we're done?" she asked, mostly just to keep him awake and aware since his eyes had started drifting. Even if this was a Dream, she didn't think falling asleep after that much blood loss would be good for him.

"Somewhere it isn't raining," he said with a feeble chuckle. "South America, I think. Brazil, or Peru maybe. Somewhere it's easy to get lost in a crowd." He paused for a minute as if thinking it over, and then nodded slightly. "What about you?"

"I haven't really thought about it yet," she admitted. "I've mostly just been focused on the job. I suppose I'll stay in L.A. for a week or two, see some of the sites. I've never actually been before. And then I guess I'll fly back to Paris and try to get caught back up in school. Hopefully I can scrape up at least a passing grade so I don't lose my scholarship."

"You'll have enough money you won't need one after this," he said idly.

"Yeah but how do I explain to people that I'm suddenly financially set for the next twenty years?" she replied. Arthur conceded with a thoughtful nod, while she was more disturbed that his normally sharp mind was muddled enough to miss something that obvious. "Will you come see me when you can?"

Arthur stroked her hand affectionately. "Soon as it's safe," he promised.

They lapsed into quiet for a moment, apart from the steady thunks of the Sub-Security attempting to get in and the haunting, distant strains of the countdown music. Arthur's breathing was ragged and when his eyes slowly began to close she shook him slightly. "No sleeping," she said.

"Right," he said, blinking deliberately and then turning his gaze up to her face. "Sorry, someone kept me up late. Busy night."

Ariadne laughed. "Sorry, I won't do that anymore," she teased.

"I'll learn to live without sleep," he said with a vague shrug, his lips curled at one corner. "I usually nap at work anyway."

She smiled and gently swiped her thumb along his cheek, wiping away some of the blood that had stained his skin. "I'm glad we got this time together, even under the circumstances."

"So am I," he said and he once again fixed her in that staggering stare. "I'll find a wa-" He froze, and his eyes widened. "The music's getting louder. This is it."

A flash of irrational panic exploded inside of her, and Ariadne held onto his hand tighter. The music didn't seem any louder to her, which meant that he was waking up and she wasn't. Not yet. "I'm not ready to leave you," she said.

Arthur sat up with a loud groan, and then turned on his knees to face her. "I'll find a way to make it work," he said fervently, cupping her face in his blood-stained hands. "Okay?" When she nodded he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She returned it enthusiastically, knowing that this might be the last time in a long time that she would get to experience this feeling. "I won't le-"

A sharp noise overrode him and a large crack appeared in the wall.

Arthur stared at it in terror. "No," he breathed frantically. And then she blinked and he was gone, the only sign of his presence left in the scarlet stains on the floor at Ariadne's feet.

. . . . .

Arthur's eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up. He looked around the cabin of the aeroplane and saw that apart from the stewardess, he was the only person awake. Tucking his hand into his pocket, he grabbed the red die and rolled it on the fold-down tray. Four. Reality. He tugged the line out of his wrist and stood up, stumbling slightly. After spending ten hours in one position, his legs weren't ready to move.

Slipping up to the next seat, he checked on Ariadne. His last image from the Dreamscape had been the Sub-Security finally starting to break through the wall. She was trapped in that room, with no escape and the enemy getting closer. As much as he wanted to do something to help her, he knew that there was nothing left to be done. The only chance she had was that she woke up before they got to her.

"Help me get them all disconnected," he said to the stewardess. Once she'd nodded, he turned and gently removed the needle from Ariadne's wrist, rubbing his thumb over the faint indentation left behind. "Be safe," he whispered anxiously and tucked a strand of her loose hair behind her ear.

As much as he wanted to wait with her until she woke, to know that she was safe, he had other priorities. It wouldn't do any good to have Fischer wake up and see the equipment, and let their mission be blown after so much effort. With one last tender touch to her hand, he stood and walked forward to Saito, removing the line from him as well.

Eames was the next person to wake up, and he stretched languidly. "What happened down there?" Arthur asked. "The Sub-Security came after us."

"My Forging slipped," Eames said, scrubbing his face tiredly. "I've never had to hold it so long. I got to slip away from Fischer a few times and pull myself back together, but he caught me when I was taking a break."

"The mission's blown?" Arthur asked curtly.

"I don't think so," Eames said. "He barely saw me, but it was enough to put the Subs on alert. I was able to come back a couple hours later as Browning and he let me back in, so I think he won't suspect anything."

"I hope not," Arthur said. "If we did all this just to lose it at the end..."

"Yeah," Eames agreed, and Arthur was fairly certain that it was the first time they had ever agreed on anything. "Fischer got to the end though. I think it'll stick. The others awake?"

"Still under," Arthur explained, working at coiling up the leads and tucking them inside of the case. "Not sure if Cobb and Saito are coming back. Ariadne said they were both in Limbo."

"She made it back up though, right?" Eames asked concernedly.

At that moment Ariadne sat up with a panicked gasp, and Arthur spun around and hurried to her side. "Hey, you're okay," he said. "You're back."

"They almost got in," she muttered distractedly. She eyed him up and down, her gaze lingering on his stomach where the bullet hole had been, and then her breathing slowly steadied. "Is everyone okay?"

"Eames is up, Yusuf should be any minute now," he said. "It's over. Just act natural now, don't let Fischer suspect anything."

Ariadne nodded, not commenting on his lack of mentioning Cobb and Saito, and then despite her wild eyes she reached into her bag and pulled out a book. Arthur squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and then turned around just as Yusuf blinked awake, pulling the headphones down off his ears. "Let's wrap this up," Arthur said, handing the locked case to the stewardess.

There were a few minutes of scrambling as everyone rearranged themselves into casual positions – and Yusuf escaped into the restroom to finally relieve himself. Arthur caught Ariadne's eyes to exchange one last significant look, which she returned with a smile, and then sank into his seat. He leaned back into the seat and peered out of the window, letting his mind wander.

He couldn't stop himself from brushing a hand over his stomach, in the act of smoothing out his sleep-wrinkled shirt. In the Dreamscape, he had been so close to death. It was far from the first time that he had died in a Dream, and he had felt it coming. Even then, on the brink of Limbo, his only concern had been for Ariadne's safety. From the moment the bullet had pierced his side on the roof of the business building, he had pushed his pain to the back of his mind to make sure that she had gotten to a safe place. If she hadn't made it back from the Dream...

Shifting uncomfortably, he turned his mind away from that thought. She was alive and safe, and if he had his way she'd never be setting foot into a Dreamscape again. He would keep an eye on her from now on, making sure that no one ever tried to hurt her. He would keep her safe.

Except for during the next three months, when they weren't allowed to be together in case Fischer became suspicious and had them followed. He had told her that it was for the best – and it really was, as experience had taught them plenty of times – but that didn't mean he was comfortable with the idea of leaving her to fend for herself for the next few months. Not now, not after something so dangerous. He had gotten used to being there to protect her, and he was loathe to give that up. Not to mention that he simply enjoyed being around her and after finally getting her, he didn't want to say goodbye yet.

A shuffle of movement to his right caught his attention, and he glanced across the aisle. Cobb's eyes were open, disoriented but most surely awake. When their eyes locked, a small grin crept across Arthur's lips and he swallowed back a chuckle. He couldn't believe the daft idiot had survived. A wave of contented relief settled in his stomach; everyone had made it out alive and Fischer seemed to be brooding but calm. They had pulled it off.

The stewardess walked in front of him, distracting him, and he turned his focus back to the window. It was over.

. . . . .

Ariadne was one of the last ones off the plane. She had pretended to be caught up in her book while the others were gathering up their things, while in actuality she was trying to sort out her thoughts. Waking up from the Dreamscape had always been a slightly jarring experience, but never so much as this time. Her brain still felt like it was strung across two different worlds, between the girl who was lounging in her plane seat and the girl who had spent a week running for her life. There was one thing that both sides of her were agreed on though: she wanted nothing more than to curl up in the protection of Arthur's arms. That seemed like the only place she could make sense of anything at the moment.

Arthur's briefcase bumped her knee as he walked passed, and he paused just long enough to glance at her and mutter, "Sorry, ma'am," before continuing on his way. She fought down the pang of disappointment – reminding herself that they couldn't give any recognition of each other – and busied herself with shoving her things back into her backpack. Saito paused and gestured for her to step out in front of him, and she murmured a quick thanks before slipping out of the plane and into the terminal.

Her mind wasn't focused as she stood in the queue at immigrations, one hand in her pocket clutched around her totem. She had checked it twice on the plane before Fischer had woken, and since then she hadn't taken her hand off of it for longer than a few seconds at a time. Without Arthur at her side, it felt like the only way to be sure she was in Reality. She acted calm and pleasant to the Immigrations officer, and had enough awareness to smile at Cobb when he was let through the gate, and then she went back to her thoughts as she walked on to baggage claims.

Standing around and waiting for the luggage to appear was making her anxious. She had gotten so used to constantly being on the move, to constantly looking over her shoulder, that just standing there was putting her on edge. Gratefully, her suitcase – a battered, violet one that she'd gotten from her parents when she'd first moved to Paris – was one of the first ones on the conveyor belt and she picked it up and headed for the exit.

The first thing she needed to do was get a hotel room. She hadn't thought of getting a place before they had left, and she realised that it probably meant winding up in a dingy little motel, not that she was too concerned about it. She intended to spend as little time in it as possible anyway, especially after spending most of the last week – Dream week – cooped up inside of one. No, she was going to wander the city and do some sketching and keep herself distracted so she wouldn't have to think about what had happened. About the man that she had spent her week with that she wouldn't see again until months later.

The crowded airport was making her jumpy so she walked outside, toting her luggage behind her, onto one of the pavements for pick-ups. It felt good to be outside, even in the thick city air, and she leaned against a pillar to catch her breath. She watched people getting in and out of cabs and shuttles, and fought the urge to flinch every time one of them glanced at her. She had to remind herself that these weren't Projections. Maybe she would be better off spending a few days alone to get herself re-adjusted to Reality.

Either way she needed to get to a hotel. Straightening up, she checked her pocket for her wallet and then pushed off the pillar. She grabbed her suitcase and started for the line of cabs. She had only gotten a few steps when someone collided with her shoulder. "Watch it-!" she blurted in alarm as she staggered sideways, nearly falling over her luggage and only managing to stay on her feet by the hand that closed around her upper arm.

"I'm sorry, are you all right?"

Her heart leapt and the moment she was steady on her feet, she turned to face the speaker. Arthur was staring back at her wearing an expression of casual concern. "Yeah, I'm okay," she said, forcing her voice into a more neutral tone.

"I'm sorry, that'll teach me to check my phone while I'm walking," he said with a chuckle. Then he paused and feigned confusion for a second, before continuing, "You're the girl from the plane, right? You were in the seat in front of me, you were reading that architecture book."

"Yeah," she said, wondering where he was going with this but more than willing to play along if it gave them a little more time together.

"Are you studying architecture here in the city?" he asked curiously.

"No, I actually study in Paris," she said, allowing a bit of smugness to slip into her tone at the admission. "I'm just here to see the sites for a class project. I've never actually been to L.A. before."

"Really?" Arthur asked, his eyebrows arching. "Well you've chosen a good place, there are some amazing buildings around here. I should know; I spend about half the year here on business. Anyway, I should probably let you get back to what you were doing. Sorry again for running you over."

Ariadne felt her heart drop into her stomach and she fought back her disappointment. "Right, well, bye."

Arthur tipped his head in farewell and started walking away. He stopped halfway to the cabs and abruptly turned back to her. "This is going to sound completely insane, and I would understand if you said no, but would you like to go out for a coffee sometime?"

"Well I'm only going to be in town for a week or so," she said, but a hopeful smile had stolen over her lips.

"Then I suppose we should hurry," he replied and the dimple appeared in his cheek. "What are you doing now?"

"Nothing in particular," she responded playfully. "I was just going to go find a hotel room."

Arthur smiled. "There's a couple really great cafes here at the airport, if you want," he said. "And then maybe I could show you around the city. There are some great buildings down near where I work, and I can direct you to some good hotels."

Ariadne pretended to think about it, and then she smiled and nodded. "That sounds great."

"Great," he echoed. She fell into step beside him as they walked down the terminal. "My name's Arthur, by the way," he added, offering a hand to her. "Arthur Pembroke."

She slipped her hand into his. "Ariadne Bishop," she supplied.

Arthur's grin was genuine as he squeezed her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ariadne."

"You too," she responded, and on the inside she was jumping for joy, looking forward to spending some time with this exciting stranger that she was in love with.

And where things would go from there, well, only the next week could say.


End file.
